


Dreamers of the Day

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mentions of spousal abuse, Romance, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago, Percival left behind London and his friends to try to make a difference in the world. When he comes back for a celebratory get-together, there's a new face among them, a woman who challenges him in ways he hasn't been since moving on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mingle with Divinity

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by viennajones' fantastic art, which you can see [here](http://pastelwoods.livejournal.com/3256.html). I love Percival to death, and in all honesty, I'd never imagined him with Mithian at all until I saw this piece being offered at merlinreversebb. Then, it made total sense. I had to try. Because looking at her artwork, it already told a story, so it would just be my job to try and find the right words for it.
> 
> Thank you to viennajones for inspiring me, and for paragraphs for reading it through and convincing me it didn't suck!
> 
> One warning: Percival works in child services, which has inherent issues regarding abuse that are mentioned and dealt with in this story. While it happens with secondary characters, it does affect the main characters.

  
_All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible._ ~ T.E. Lawrence

_Chapter One: Mingle with Divinity_

Everyone was supposed to be there. That’s what Arthur had said when he’d called with the invitation, like Percival was going to need the added incentive to say yes. Lance and Morgana, Merlin and Gwaine, Leon and Gwen. People Percival hadn’t seen in over three years, not since he’d had to leave London behind. People he’d loved, people he’d missed. The family he’d always wanted, though he knew Arthur didn’t really believe it.

That was all right. Percival loved him anyway.

But as he emerged from the Underground, his step faltered. London was smaller than he remembered. The buildings were still tall, the energy pulsing, but after open skies and hundreds of miles of horizons, the city felt claustrophobic in ways it never had before. He could cross the street in just a few steps—and did as he bounded toward the restaurant Arthur had chosen. Instead of grass and sulfur, his nose filled with the scent of exhaust mixing with the hot oil from the chippy he passed, and he was nineteen again, hanging back behind Lance as introductions were being bandied around the Pendragon foyer like rice at a wedding.

It was more than a lifetime ago. Perhaps Arthur had a right to wonder if he’d actually follow through on the invitation.

The restaurant was nothing like he would’ve expected Arthur to choose. More cafe than anything else, he walked in at the end of a long queue, at least a dozen people waiting to order at the single cashier. The chalkboard menu on the wall boasted usual pub fare, but the coffee smelled rich, the laughter from nearby patrons contagious. When he turned his head toward a particularly raucous roar, he spotted Leon and Arthur sitting at a tiny table with an unknown brunette.

Arthur spotted him before he could look away. “Perc!” He nearly knocked over his chair in his haste to get up. Heads turned to follow him, and faster than Percival could step out of the queue, he was surrounded by his old friends, Arthur at the fore, clasping him in a fierce hug. 

“Well, I won that wager,” from a wry voice in the background.

Percival stepped away from Arthur to face Gwaine’s brilliant smile. “Good to know at least one person has some faith in me.”

“Who knows you better than me?”

He laughed, but it was bittersweet. The question would’ve been rhetorical before, but now, he wondered if Gwaine would say the same if he knew some of what Percival had done in the years that separated them.

Everybody took their turn in welcoming him. Arthur had been right. The whole gang was there, as well as a few faces he didn’t recognize. His gaze kept straying back to the brunette who remained at Arthur’s table, but before he could find out if it was Arthur’s latest girlfriend, Leon was there, demanding to know what he wanted to drink so Percival could take his seat while Leon went and fetched it.

As Percival folded himself into the chair, the brunette gave him a wry smile. “I didn’t realize we’d be joined by the prodigal son. Lucky me.”

While Percival blushed, Arthur burst into laughter and clapped him on the back. “Lucky for all of us. Perc, this is Mithian. Mithian, Percival.”

She stuck out her hand, surprising him for a moment before he shook it. Her fingers were long and slim, and though his swallowed hers, her grip was strong, and she didn’t seem intimidated by his size. If anything, her eyes sparkled in silent challenge. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He nodded and murmured something equally polite, but couldn’t resist a curious glance at Arthur. What exactly had Arthur said about him?

“Just for the record, Gwaine didn’t make that bet with me,” Arthur said. “I had every confidence in you.”

“No, he didn’t,” Gwaine called from the next table.

Percival chuckled. “That’s all right. I can see why you might think I’d flake out. It’s been too long.”

“We’ll have to come up with another major life event to drag you back. Merlin can only get promoted so many times before that gets old.” Arthur leaned back. “What about you, Morgana? Ready to show off a bump?”

When she slapped his shoulder, everybody laughed, Percival included. Any awkwardness he might’ve expected was nowhere to be seen. They’d slipped into familiar rhythms, even when surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

“You could always get married,” Percival said. “Uther should love that.”

“Nobody will have him,” Morgana chimed in.

Arthur caught Percival’s glance at Mithian. Unfortunately, so did she.

“Oh, we’re not together,” Mithian said.

“Then…” He was still struggling to figure out how she fit into the gang. “Leon?”

That brought on a fit of giggles. “Oh, Lord, no.”

“Mithian’s just one of the guys,” Arthur said. “Our fathers are old friends.”

Sitting there with her dark eyes and dimples to drown in, Mithian was nothing like he would’ve called one of the guys. Certainly, Morgana and Gwen were beautiful, too, but they were part of the gang through blood—Morgana for being Arthur’s sister, Gwen for being Elyan’s. Including Mithian without anyone considering her for more romantic purposes didn’t fit with what he knew of his old friends. Gwaine, especially, would’ve tried something, though from what little he’d already seen of Mithian, Percival could see her shooting him down fast if she wasn’t interested.

Thankfully, Leon arrived with his coffee and saved him from posing an awkward question that would put him back on the outside for not knowing the answer. Percival tried to give him his chair back, but Leon waved him down, taking an empty one with Merlin instead.

“So where do you live now that you’re not in London?” Mithian asked.

His coffee was too hot, so he cradled it between his palms to wait for it to cool. “Kent.”

She brightened. “Oh, I love it down there. Everything’s so lush and open.”

“That’s true about almost everywhere but London and Essex, you know,” Arthur said. “You’re just too much of a city mouse to see that.”

The face she pulled was so adorable, Percival had to bite back his smile. “Some of us know how to actually appreciate the country.” Her gaze swiveled to Percival. “Isn’t that right?”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

She cocked a brow. “It’s not about sides. It’s about opinions. Are you saying you don’t have one?”

Folding his arms over his chest, Arthur leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

He had no idea what Arthur was talking about, but he recognized a gauntlet getting thrown when he saw it. Forgetting everything he’d been thinking about staying out of what was clearly an old argument, he pushed his coffee aside so that nothing was between them as he angled in to lock on Mithian’s eyes at the same level as hers. “It _is_ about sides,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Every opinion we have automatically lumps us together. Every action we take. You might be right or you might be wrong, but even then, it’s all just a matter of perspective.”

She’d gone still as he spoke, absorbing each word he uttered. “You’re forgetting about neutrality. That’s what you wanted when you said you weren’t going to get in the middle of this, after all.”

“No, I wanted not to have to take the side against Arthur because I agree with you,” he countered. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

“I thought you were in the Army or something. Aren’t you programmed to automatically take sides?”

At his side, Arthur hissed beneath his teeth, but Percival ignored it. “Actually, I’m in the Reserves now. And no, I’m not. I’m trained to assess dangerous situations and act accordingly. Sometimes, that means going against orders.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re allowed to do that?”

“Not really. But on the rare occasion I got called out on it, I was able to defend my choice well enough for it not to matter.”

“So you believe that what’s important is when to choose voicing your opinions, is that it?”

“I pick my battles, yes. Because who gets listened to more closely? The man who never shuts up, or the one who rarely speaks?”

Her lips parted as if she had a rejoinder, but nothing came out. He could see her mulling over his argument, turning it over and around in search of its flaw. He almost wished she would find something and challenge him on it, just so he could hear what she had to say.

He jumped when Arthur started clapping and broke the spell.

“He doesn’t look it, but Perc outdid us all at uni when it came to philosophy and psychology.” Arthur rapped on the side of Percival’s skull with his knuckles until Percival laughed and knocked his hand away. “There’s actually a brain under all that muscle.”

“I can see that,” Mithian mused.

Under so much scrutiny, Percival flushed and reached for his coffee, taking a big swig so he’d have an excuse not to respond. “Taking sides is just a sore point for me,” he said when he ran out of stalling time. 

But her contemplative visage never wavered. “You’ll have to tell me why some time.”

The thing of it was…he believed she meant it.

* * *

He made the rounds throughout the evening, listening to Morgana’s complaints about Uther as if she was still eighteen and Uther had any actual power over her, comparing work stories with Gwen, arguing with Gwaine about the merits of pursuing his most recent lady friend who wasn’t falling head over heels for his usual schtick. It was great catching up with everyone, just like Arthur had predicted, but at the periphery of it all, he kept catching Mithian, the toss of her hair, the roll of her laugh, like a spirit on the wind always flitting out of reach when he would turn to look for her.

If anyone noticed, nobody said a word. He rather believed they were all still so shocked he’d actually come that they weren’t willing to jinx it by saying anything that might drive him away again.

Gwen and Lance were the first to make their exits, and when Percival lifted a brow when their hands slid together on the walk, Merlin nodded. 

“They don’t think the rest of us know,” Merlin said.

“Which makes it quite a laugh catching them out and then pretending we haven’t seen anything,” Gwaine added.

Percival shook his head. He didn’t quite get it. “But why go to the bother? Not for Arthur’s sake, surely.” His break-up with Gwen had been ages ago, long before Percival had left London. The fact that they’d all remained friends should’ve been testimony enough that he’d be all right with any relationship she might decide to have.

“You know Lance.” Merlin shrugged like it was all common knowledge. “He loves the drama of it all.”

And it was commonly known, or at least it had been on Percival’s departure, but wouldn’t he have grown out of such a thing in the time since? Not for the first time that night, he really looked at his old friends, noting the fresh laugh lines at the corners of Gwaine’s eyes, the thicker set of Merlin’s jaw. They weren’t boys any longer, none of them.

“You don’t find it romantic?”

Mithian’s pointed query turned him in his seat. Her shrewd gaze erased the others around him, creating a different milieu where the world was both sharper around the edges and faintly surreal with its absence of detail at the same time. “No, I don’t,” he said without considering the consequences of prevaricating. “They’re among friends. What’s romantic about denying your feelings for the world to see?”

“Says the man who’s never been in love,” Gwaine commented.

“That’s not true,” Merlin interjected. “Remember Mia? He was mad for her.”

“Until he finally came to his senses and listened to us about how she was sleeping around.”

“I thought we were talking about Lance’s love life, not mine,” Percival complained. Mia was an unfortunate memory he’d tried to put behind him, but of course, here he was, wallowing in the past so it was understandable he’d get mired in her again when he least wanted it.

“You shouldn’t tease him,” Mithian said. “If he’s never been in love, then of course he wouldn’t understand.”

Her observation, so wrong and yet so perversely right, drew him back to her, grateful and annoyed at the same time. “I did love her,” he heard himself confessing. “As it turned out, I only knew the idea of her, but that didn’t stop me from making it clear to everyone how I felt.”

“So we _are_ talking about your love life.”

Though her voice remained soft, the breath of it sent a shiver through him. He knew the distance between them made that physically impossible, but real or not, he’d felt it. 

“We could talk about yours instead,” he tried.

She smiled. “I don’t have one. I’m one of the guys, remember?”

Her tone held a faint hint of bitterness he doubted anyone else in the vicinity caught. Though he loved his old friends dearly, their tendency to paint each other into their neat little corners made it hard for anyone to escape once they were there. For instance, Arthur might brag about Merlin’s professional accomplishments, but he would always be the scrawny kid Arthur thought he had to rescue. Percival had to literally leave London to break away from their limited expectations. Mithian was the latest victim. The problem was, she hadn’t been part of the group long enough to accept things for what they were.

He returned her smile, hoping she saw an ally rather than adversary, in spite of their earlier argument. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Stick around, then. You’ll discover soon enough this is pretty much the extent of my social life.”

“Why?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Because of work?”

“If only I was that busy.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Gwaine said. “She always has excuses not to go out.”

For a split second, Percival caught Mithian’s glance, her mouth tight with restrained laughter, and he had to duck his head to avoid spoiling the moment. Gwaine, charmer that he was, didn’t bother to look past the surface of her polite refusals, because of course, why wouldn’t she want to go out with him? 

“Speaking of excuses…” Twisting in her seat, she grabbed her satchel from where it was hooked over the back and swung it onto her shoulder. “I should probably head home. I’ve got an early morning.”

Merlin rose and swept her into a hug before she could walk out. “Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Her withdrawal was slow as her gaze slid to Percival. “It was lovely meeting you, Percival.”

He had the overwhelming urge to stand and say goodbye, but with the others’ eyes heavy upon them, it seemed awkward. “Same here.”

Except she didn’t walk out right away. As her slim fingers toyed with her strap, she said, “Maybe we’ll get the chance to see each other again. Are you going to be in London long?”

“No,” he hated to admit. “Just for the night, actually.”

“Oh.” She masked her disappointment with another quick, bright smile. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing I got to meet you when I did. It might’ve been another three years before I got the chance.”

As she finally turned on her heel to go, Percival lurched to his feet. “Wait.” She had to tilt her head back when she obeyed, but the glimmer he saw behind her eyes made his discomfort worth it. “Why don’t I give you my number? Or maybe you could give me yours.” He dug around in his pocket for his phone, cursing himself for his sudden clumsiness. “We could meet up whenever you’re down in Kent.”

“I’d like that.” Their fingers brushed as she took the phone, though if she noticed the heat leaping between them, she gave no sign. As she passed it back, he heard a muffled ring from inside her bag. “Just cancel that,” she said. “But now I’ve got your number, so the next time I escape the city, I promise, you’ll be the first person I ring.”

As Percival took his chair again amidst Gwaine’s lewd teasing and Merlin’s attempts to defuse his comments, he tried to pretend he wasn’t watching Mithian as she darted across the street toward the Underground.

He was fairly certain that just like Lance and Gwen, he didn’t fool anybody.


	2. Girl of the Day

_Chapter Two: Girl of the Day_

From the second she locked her flat behind her, Mithian smiled.

On the train, a grandmotherly type with a dog-eared magazine of puzzles on her lap leaned across the aisle and told her she had a lovely smile. “Any particular reason for it?” she’d asked.

Mithian shook her head. “Just glad to be getting out of the city for the day, I guess.”

When she stepped onto the platform in Maidstone, she ignored the other passengers spilling out around her to tilt her head up, scan the whispering clouds above, and inhale as deeply as she could manage. All right, so the scent wasn’t much different from certain parts of outer London, but there was a crispness to the air, an underbelly of earth and animals, that the city lacked.

Her smile widened. She might’ve been born a city mouse, but she truly was a country one at heart. Damn if she’d ever let Arthur know how right he was, though.

Slipping her hand inside her coat pocket, she fingered her phone as she began the trek to the station. The thud of her heart accelerated with every step, so excited and nervous she felt a tad silly about the whole thing, really. Though they’d had two separate conversations since meeting, Percival hadn’t once mentioned this being a date. In fact, the entire purpose for their second call had been to see if she wanted to reschedule her outing to a day.

“You don’t have to,” he’d said. “But I won’t be able to make it on Friday if you come then. You’ll have to explore the city on your own.”

“I was rather hoping to see more than the city.”

“Do you have a car?”

She’d laughed. “I live in London. Why on earth would I need a car?”

“Then if it’s the country you want, you’ll have to wait until this commoner can taxi you around. What about coming on Saturday instead?”

Waiting another day had been worth it to gain his company. Now that she was here, however, she wished she knew exactly how he was seeing this expedition. The night they’d met, she could’ve sworn he might be interested, but that had been nearly two weeks previous. Doubts had started plaguing her as soon as she woke the next morning to a flirtatious text from Gwaine. She’d deleted it with a roll of her eyes, but the seed had been planted. Percival had made his distaste for sneaking around quite plain. If he was at all interested in her romantically, surely he would’ve said something to Merlin and Gwaine after she’d left. Gwaine was a lot of things, but he respected his friends. He especially seemed to have a soft spot for Percival, though she’d yet to discover how exactly that had come about. She couldn’t imagine Gwaine continuing his pursuit of her if he thought for a moment that Percival was genuinely interested in the same.

But he had.

By the time Friday rolled around, she’d convinced herself it had all been in her head, and to prove it, she called Percival and announced she was going to be in Kent the following weekend, just to confirm to herself he would come up with some excuse to avoid seeing her. It’d been a delight when he hadn’t, but the call remained so casual, she was convinced she was right.

Today, she was finally going to prove it one way or another. In the long run, it might be better if they did only remain friends, but she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she hoped for more.

Mithian emerged from the station, prepared to ring Percival to let him know she’d arrived, when a long, powerful body straightened from where it leaned against an ashy green Jeep Wrangler parked on the curb. She gave a silent prayer of thanks that he didn’t stride closer to her, instead allowing her to approach him. Though she was hardly short, his height took her breath away, filling space with such ease and quiet assurance it was difficult to focus on anything but him when he was nearby. At Merlin’s promotion party, she’d had to force herself to concentrate on whoever sat with her, but every time she’d heard Percival’s deep voice, her gaze would stray in his direction, distracting her from whatever was being said at the time.

It was a wonder Arthur or Leon hadn’t made a comment about it. She rather felt like she’d embarrassed herself by deliberately provoking a near-stranger, just to get him to talk to her.

Well, hardly _just_. She hadn’t expected him to so neatly deflate her point in the discussion about sides. After that, she’d craved a repeat performance, hoping it wasn’t a fluke. It hadn’t been.

His smile was warm, his eyes more so, as she stopped in front of him. “I didn’t expect you to be waiting,” she said. “You haven’t been long, have you?”

He jerked his chin toward the station. “Not long. The train from London’s fairly reliable. I didn’t want you to have to wait for me.” He hopped out of the way to pull open the passenger door for her. “I’ve got a basket packed if you want to head straight out. Just sandwiches and some water, so if you want something more, I’ll have to stop somewhere along the way.”

She was so stunned that he’d opened the door for her, she didn’t register the rest of what he said until after he’d slid behind the steering wheel. “You planned a picnic?”

He cast her a quick glance before looking back at the oncoming traffic to pull out. “Is that all right?”

“Of course,” she rushed. “Just…unexpected. Thank you.”

The lines between his eyes smoothed. As he concentrated on pulling safely onto the road, Mithian shifted her satchel off her shoulder to rest on the floor between her feet. It gave her something to do with her hands while her thoughts flitted every which direction in desperate search for the answer she sought. A picnic. Practical, yet romantic. She didn’t know Percival nearly well enough yet to decide which way he meant it. 

And why couldn’t she just let go of the question entirely so she could enjoy the day to its fullest?

Because she wanted to believe the best in it. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, absorbing the firm set of his profile, the intent in his gaze as he concentrated on the road. This one could break her heart if she let him. He wouldn’t even realize he was doing it.

“So what happened yesterday to change our schedule?” she asked, striving for casual.

“Work. I’d arranged to take the day off so we could go out, but then I got scheduled for court.” He shot a grin in her direction. “And as fun as it was to do it with you, I make it a point never to argue with magistrates.”

Mithian laughed. “No, I can’t imagine that’s ever a good idea.” But that raised another question. “Why did you have to go to court?”

His mouth tightened, the earlier mirth dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. “One of my old cases got reopened.”

“A case?”

“Yeah. I work in children’s social services for the county.”

She blinked. That might’ve been the very last occupation she would’ve ever ascribed to him. “Social services.”

“That’s right.”

“For children.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I’m not, I’m just…” She stopped when she realized he was smiling at her again. “All right, I am.”

“I thought you knew.”

“Why would you think that?”

His gaze returned to the road, but a faint stain had risen in his cheeks. “Because Arthur has a big mouth and you said you’d heard about me. You really didn’t know?”

She jumped back to that night, remembering how she’d greeted the giant stranger who’d arrived with such fanfare. The tales she’d heard prior to his appearance dwelt mostly on his absence, or what he might do if he was actually around. Playing to his physical strength most of the time, or jokes from Gwaine and Merlin about needing a comrade in arms for a prank or a stunt. She’d known about the military thing, but nobody really talked about what Percival was doing now. It was always about the past and the good old days, comments she learned how to block out so she didn’t feel like an outsider for not being a part of them.

“Why don’t we pretend we don’t know anything at all about each other except what we discovered that night?” she suggested. “Start from scratch.”

“I don’t have to pretend for that,” Percival said.

“You mean you didn’t go digging for information about me from any of the others?”

He shook his head. “I prefer finding things out for myself.”

Unsurprising based on what she already knew about him. “Trust what you see, not what you’re told.”

“Exactly.”

“Fair enough.”

His shoulders relaxed, his hands slipping down on the wheel, though his grasp remained expert and in control. “I can see a little why Arthur thinks of you as one of the guys,” he said. “You say things straight up. No games.”

“I don’t see the point in them,” she replied, but on the inside, the fear that this really was just about hanging out together, not anything romantic, began to raise its ugly head again.

“For the record, then, I don’t. Unless that’s what you prefer.”

“You don’t what?”

He kept his attention on the road ahead of them as he answered. “See you as one of the guys.”

Her breath caught. It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear, but now that he’d uttered the words, they almost seemed too good to be true. “Since we’re being straight with each other, I guess it’s my turn to ask. This picnic you’ve planned. Are we going as friends or dates?”

The color she’d noticed earlier was brighter now. He was definitely blushing. “I was hoping it could be both.” And then in a rush, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking of that night. Beautiful girls don’t usually want to argue philosophy when they see me.”

Considering the muscles he packed, she couldn’t blame women for noticing much else. But her brain—and her silly, out of control emotions—had latched onto a different part of his confession. “You think I’m beautiful?”

As they coasted to a stop behind a line of cars at a roundabout, he finally looked her way. “I have eyes, don’t I?” He might not have been the first man to tell her that, but it was still her turn to blush. “So is being both all right for you?”

“More than,” she said softly. “It was exactly what I wanted today to be.”

* * *

He chose a spot near a hiking trail that wound its way over the local hills, abandoning the Jeep at a layby at the crest of one of the taller ones. The terrain was rougher than she was used to, and though she’d worn boots in anticipation of being outside, the occasional hidden hole caught her ankle to send her lurching sideways. The second time it happened, Percival slowed his pace from where he’d been leading the way to match her stride, capturing her hand in his to help keep her steady along the way.

Mithian didn’t protest. His fingers were strong and warm, without feeling like they were going to crush hers. But she couldn’t keep her smiles at bay while they continued their trek.

Lunch consisted of simple sandwiches, just as he’d claimed, but after they’d eaten, he stretched out on the blanket he’d brought to stare up at the sky. “I love how quiet it is out here,” he said. “It’s easier to think.”

She avoided the urge to lie next to him, choosing instead to sit cross-legged at his side. “Is this why you left London?”

“Not entirely.” His gaze was wistful, his mouth soft. “It’s just a nice perk.”

“Arthur thinks you’re mad, you know. He can never understand why anyone would specifically choose to abandon the city.”

Percival turned his head a fraction so he could look up at her. “What do you think?”

She laughed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“No, really.”

It hadn’t seemed like she would need more of an explanation, but the expectation in his denial pushed her to consider it. “Well,” she tried. “We have to look out for ourselves, don’t we? At the end of the day, who else is there? So if being here is what makes someone happy, I think it’s a little unreasonable to call them crazy for wanting something you might not.”

One of Percival’s smiles always came on slow, like the sun peeking out over the horizon. His lips canted now, sparking a satisfying burn deep inside her. “What exactly do you do in London? Something that makes you happy, I hope.”

“Graphic design. I work for a company that manages pubs and restaurants, so I help set up menus, websites, that sort of thing.”

“Really? Huh.”

Her brow arched. “It looks like I wasn’t the only one surprised by a career choice.”

“No, it’s not that,” he hastened to say. “I can see you being creative. It’s just…well, I guess I had it in my head that you’d follow your star, so to speak. Work for yourself.”

“In London? You do remember how expensive it is to actually live there, don’t you?”

He chuckled in embarrassment. “You’re right. It’s not exactly practical.”

“Not that I wouldn’t love to do it,” Mithian went on. “But there’s really not that much money in photography these days when everyone and their brother has a camera in their phone.”

“Is photography your first love, then?”

“First, last, and always.” She lifted her eyes away from the temptation of him to gaze at the translucent clouds ringing the tops of the trees in the distance. “When I was little, I used to steal my grandad’s magazines so I could look at all the pictures of these faraway lands. Like Burma or Brazil. They always seemed so much more alive than what I knew, like I could actually taste the dirt on the ground if I did something silly like lick the page.” When Percival smiled at the image, she smiled, too. Happy memories, all of them, even if thinking of her grandfather made her mourn for simpler times. “That’s how I measure art these days. Whether or not it makes me believe its world is more real than this one.”

“You should’ve brought your camera today.”

She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, weighing how to respond. The truth won out. “I did, actually.”

“So why are you just sitting here?” Before she could stop him, he rolled over and grabbed her satchel from where she’d dropped it at the side of the blanket. “Go take pictures.”

Mithian took the bag from him, though dropped it into her lap rather than open it. “I thought we were spending the day together.”

“We are. You’re not planning on running off, are you?”

“Hardly. You have the car keys.”

“And I’d feel like a prat if you didn’t take any photos just because of me.” When she still didn’t move, he reached across and fumbled with the nearest buckle. “Get it out. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

They both laughed as his attempts did nothing but make him curse. Mithian rescued him by deftly undoing the fastenings and extracting her Olympus E-M1.

He whistled under his breath. “That is not a Tesco special deal.”

She cradled it at the best angle to give him a good view. “I returned every single gift my family gave me for Christmas last year, just so I could get this. Nobody listened to me when I told them this was all I wanted.”

“Clearly, they don’t know you very well.”

Oddly enough, she got the distinct impression Percival did. The day was so lovely, it would be a shame not to capture at least some images of it, not to mention how fortunate it would be later on to have tangible memories. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked one final time.

His unblinking gaze dared her not to believe him. “I insist.”


	3. When It's Picturesque

_Chapter Three: When It’s Picturesque_

Percival could tell she didn’t believe he was good with her taking pictures, but he didn’t give her much of a choice when he pointedly refused to let her off the hook until she clambered to her feet and began wandering around. Truth be told, he wanted this time. To regain his footing after being swept away by so many of her responses. To figure out how he was going to convince her to stay past teatime.

Most importantly, to watch her get lost in her element, without having to censor his reaction for fear of scaring her away.

She astounded him. All of the potential that she’d allowed glimmers of at Merlin’s celebration was put on full display today, made even better because he didn’t think she was actually fully aware of how special she truly was. Her beauty, certainly, though she’d taken a more conservative approach today, pulling her hair up in a twist that turned the angles of her face into an exotic sculpture, better worthy of a museum than the simple dales of Kent. Her hesitations when she didn’t acknowledge her own abilities, a modesty utterly unnecessary in his opinion.

As she made ever wider circles around the picnic blanket, Percival rolled onto his side to watch her lose minutes upon minutes to the foundling foliage she captured. She carved out paths across the earth no soldier would ever tolerate, broken and disjointed, without logic or purpose other than the inner needs driving her along. If he’d been forced to follow, he most likely would’ve given up long before now. As a spectator, though, he had greater appreciation for the art behind her choices, especially since it afforded him such a grand view in the process.

One thing became imminently clear. Mithian loved taking pictures. She cradled her camera with the care of a lover long separated from her partner, secure and gentle at the same time. His mind wandered to places it was too early to dwell in, like how her slim fingers would feel caressing his bare skin in the same manner, but he lacked the wherewithal to care enough to stop.

Not once did he offer guidance. He knew nothing of art. His skills rested in labor and intuition, the ability to apply force to solve a problem as keen as his eye at ferreting out moral truths. Interrupting her would reveal his weakness, as well as display such gross hubris he’d never be able to look her in the face again afterward. He couldn’t spoil such potential, even though he got to experience sheer riches in regarding her now. These would be the memories that guided him through lonely nights, when Mithian would return to London and he was left to wonder if the spark of their attraction would diminish with distance.

So lost in her, he didn’t register she’d turned the camera to him until after she’d snapped a second photo. 

Percival threw an arm up over his face. “What’re you doing?” he laughed.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

She didn’t lower the camera, instead continuing around him so he was forced to twist if he wanted to block the shot. After she’d done an entire revolution, he gave up trying.

“You’re going to delete those,” he said.

“Am not.”

“Do you want me to delete them for you?”

“You’d have to get the camera away from me first.”

That sounded distinctly like a dare. When she rounded his left shoulder, he rolled to his feet and reached to grab her.

Mithian shrieked and darted away. “You’re the one who told me to enjoy myself!”

With his longer legs and reach, he could’ve easily caught her. Watch her carefully to see where she would go, add a burst of speed, and the chase would be over. But at the sight of pink high in her cheeks, the playful glitter in her dark eyes, the last thing Percival wanted was to end it early.

“If you wanted portraits, you could’ve stayed in London.” He feinted left, which drew a startled laugh from her as she redirected her flight. “Does that mean you’re ready to go back?”

“Hardly.” She paused, the blanket separating them. “Don’t tell me a big, strapping soldier like yourself is afraid of getting his picture taken.”

Before he could answer, she snapped another one.

His mock-angry “Hey!” was followed by more of her laughter and fresh spurts of speed from the both of them. She did everything she could to keep something in his way—the picnic basket, a gnarled tree, a patch of muddy ground unable to dry as quickly as its surroundings—all the while sneaking in more shots. She must’ve taken a couple dozen when he decided to finish the game and swept in at an angle to catch her around the waist.

“No fair!” she cried out when her feet left the ground. “You’re cheating.”

“It’s called using my advantage.” With his arm clamped firmly in place, he reached around her, palm up. “Now hand it over.”

Mithian held it out in front of her as far as she could. “No.”

Truth be told, he rather liked how she wriggled against him in her effort to get free. Her pert bottom kept grinding against him, while the heat they’d generated in the chase rose even more degrees from the friction. It didn’t escape his notice she was careful not to kick him, too. Likely, she _could’ve_ liberated herself with a well-aimed heel, but chose not to.

He smiled and leaned closer until his mouth hovered at her ear. “I could drop you in the puddle, you know.” He deliberately pitched his voice deep and slow. “Be a shame to get all muddy when you look good enough to eat today.”

Mithian went still. From his vantage, he saw the tender throb of her pulse at her throat begin to quicken. “You wouldn’t.”

“Give me the camera, then.”

She hesitated a fraction of a second too long.

As soon as he swiveled in the puddle’s direction, she came back to life with a shriek that was half-laugh. “Wait!”

Percival stopped. “Do you yield?”

“I’ll make you a deal. I get to keep one picture of my choosing, and I’ll delete the rest.”

Only Mithian would have the nerve to try to strike a deal when she had no chance of winning anyway. For that alone, Percival would bargain with her. “I get to pick it.”

“I pick three, and you get veto power on two of them.”

“Done.”

He relaxed his arm to let her slide down the length of his body, stifling a groan at how good it felt as she did so. When her feet touched the ground, she hesitated, then glanced up at him over her shoulder. “Do you want to see the others I took, too?”

Hopeful expectation gleamed in her flushed face, and he had the sudden urge to lean down and kiss her and feel all that new heat firsthand. From the way she leaned back against him, he didn’t think she’d object but that would be crossing another bridge, a step that could accelerate beyond his control all too quickly. He might be willing to go along with impetuous acts, like the chase or any of Gwaine’s adventures when he’d been in the city, but he was by nature more cautious than that, needful of making the right step rather than the easy one. The more time he spent with Mithian, the more he wanted this to work out, which in his book translated to slow and steady, not fast and furious.

“I’d love that.” He dropped his arm and let her settle on the blanket first, smiling when she stretched out on her stomach with room for him next to her. The sun’s vantage dictated he lay down, too, their legs grazing against each other, his shoulder nudging against hers as she manipulated the camera.

“It’s easy to make photos look good when you can crop and light it all artificially,” Mithian said. Her fingers flew too over the buttons as she scrolled through the menu on the display. “I don’t like to do that. It feels like cheating.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Technology’s about making everything easier.”

“So you think artistry can only happen when you strip away the tools and let the person do the creating?”

She frowned. “Well, when you put it like that…”

She seemed so concerned about how it painted her, he laughed and let her off the hook. “I know what you mean. There’s something more satisfying in knowing you’ve created or accomplished something the hard way.” It so closely mirrored what he’d just been thinking about how to proceed with her, he wondered if he was being the most transparent man who ever walked the planet by saying this kind of thing out loud. He felt it as truth, though, which meant he couldn’t pretend to think otherwise. “The end might be the same if you took a shortcut, but sometimes it’s the way you get there that makes it mean more.”

“Yes,” she said with a smile and a glance that just made him want to kiss her again. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Mithian started with the first pictures she’d taken, long shots of the hills in the horizon. They weren’t interested in the finer details of flowers or trees, but arcs of land carving away from the skies, angles sloped until up was the same as down, left the same as right. In the circles she’d traveled, they created a panorama that painted the countryside in new light, each revolution offering something fresh. They pulled Percival closer, tilting his head so he could peer more closely at them. He didn’t really know much about photography, but Mithian’s were intriguingly different. 

Then he showed up. It wasn’t what he expected. 

She’d switched to extreme close-ups. The first one was his profile, but only part of it. Next, his chin, an eye, his hands. Maybe if they were all put together, someone might see a completely picture of him, but not each one on its own.

When she reached the end, her finger hovered over the button she’d been pressing. Seconds passed. Neither one of them spoke. Until she did.

“It’s not that hard to pick three, is it?”

“No,” he said automatically, except it was. “I changed my mind. You keep whatever you want.”

Her smile faded. “You don’t like them.”

“It’s not that. I’ve never seen anything like them before.” He needed to give her something without sounding like an idiot. “Those landscapes were stunning.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.”

“That’s not a euphemism for weird, is it?”

“What?” The look on her face said she honestly believed that was what he meant. “No, they’re not weird,” he insisted. “I just don’t understand why you’d switch from those to getting so close on me. Nobody wants to see all the pores on my nose.”

She laughed. “It’s not that bad. And that one’s actually you’re fault. You wouldn’t stop moving while I was shooting.”

“Because someone likes to push her luck.”

“I actually like this one best.” She flicked through the roll until she reached the first again, the partial profile when he hadn’t been aware of what she was doing. “If you’re not going to make me delete it, this is the one I want.”

“All right, then I approve.”

“But you still don’t get it.”

He rolled onto his side. Maybe he’d think more clearly if his head wasn’t filled with the scent of her. “Explain it to me.”

Setting aside the camera, Mithian mirrored his pose, but instead of making it easier with the added distance, it cast them in a new intimacy, even more so than when he’d held her close. This would be like the morning after or—and his mouth went dry even considering the scenario—the moments before, when he might invite her back to his flat, lead her to his room, and they would lie there together, not touching but about to, hearts thudding with anticipation.

“You’re a big guy,” she said. “But you know that. I think you rely on it. You depend on knowing that’s how people see you, because you like to surprise them by being what they don’t expect.”

He didn’t answer her except to smile. His inferences about how astute she was were finding root in reality, not to mention he thought he knew where she was going with this now.

“I already have that big guy burned on my brain.” Her voice softened. “I want to make sure I remember the pieces that put him together, too.”

The urge to kiss her again tried to take over, so Percival forced himself to change the subject before it got out of hand again. “Do you post them anywhere online?”

“Oh, god no.”

“Why not?”

“Because everybody else does. If I ever want to be taken seriously, it just feels like they’ll see me as an amateur if I’m sharing my work on Instagram.”

“But you are an amateur, aren’t you? A very good one, of course,” he hastened to add. “I think they’re great. But if you’re not getting paid, isn’t exposure the next best thing? Somebody might notice you then and offer you some work.”

“Or people could steal them,” she countered. 

“So nobody will ever see the pictures from today?”

She frowned. “Well, I don’t know about that…”

“I’d like to. Would you mind sending me copies?”

Her eyes twinkled. “You didn’t even want me taking pictures of you, and now you want to keep them?”

“Not those,” he laughed. “The others.” He glanced at her camera. “And maybe one more.”

“Of what?”

“Let me take one of you. It’s only fair I get something to remember, too.”

His request hung between them, tangible yet delicate as it waited for Mithian to decide whether or not it should take flight. He tried not to look like he was holding his breath in wait, but the longer he took, the more his heart pounded against his ribs. Though he’d asked on a whim, he realized once it was out there that he really wanted to be able to pull out his phone whenever he wanted and see her smiling up at him as a memento for the day.

“That is only fair.” Mithian sat up and retrieved her camera. “But you’re getting a primer on how to use this before I let you touch it, mister.”

He bit back his smile as she launched into a lecture on how her camera worked, mostly because it allowed him the opportunity to move next to her and lean over her shoulder to watch as she demonstrated. Slender tendrils of her hair caught in the breeze, tickling across his cheek, while the warm musk of her perfume mingled with the nearby wildflowers in a new elixir that made his mouth water. Combine it all together, and he was having a difficult time concentrating on her lesson.

“Got it?”

Her query demanded only one possible answer. “Of course.” He took extra care when she passed it over. He knew what button to push, at least. All of the fancy stuff would have to wait for next time.

His pull away was slower than his reach for it. Next time. He’d decided that without thinking about it or spending an hour debating the pros and cons. There _would_ be a next time, though, as long as Mithian agreed to it.

She smiled at him as he raised the camera, warming him from the inside out with just that simple gesture.

She would. He was certain of it.


	4. Listen to the Talking Heart in My Chest

_Chapter Four: Listen to the Talking Heart in My Chest_

_Need advice. Which shirt looks better?_

Mithian bit back her smile as she thumbed between the two pictures Percival had sent with the text. In the week since her day with him, they’d got into the habit of texting each other several times a day, usually just to say hi or see how the other was doing. Percival actually did most of the texting. Mithian sent back photos she started take around the city that she thought he might like, partially because Percival had shown such a genuine appreciation for her eye, partially because she wanted him to have a peek into her world.

The shirts he asked her advice on were both dressy, one white with a black placket, the other a royal blue, but she didn’t smile because they both fit his broad shoulders so well. That was a bonus, of course, but her amusement sprang from the fact that he was taking selfies in a dressing room. She’d expect the vanity from any of the other guys—Gwaine and Arthur, especially—but Percival had always seemed too level-headed for such things.

_Depends. What’s it for?_

His response came right away.

_Need a new shirt for court. Splattered bolognese on my other one._

_Blue._

She would have picked that one anyway. They made his eyes pop.

_Thanks_

_Will I get chance to see in person?_

_You planning on going to court any time soon?_

_I could meet you after court._

_I’ll remember that._

Mithian left it there. She liked the idea of his mind wandering to what they might do the next time they saw each other in person. Their first date had been bereft of kisses, outside of the peck on her cheek he gave her when he dropped her off at the station, but after the picnic, he’d taken her hand in his as they’d walked back to the car. His enveloped hers completely, but the gentleness of his grasp dispelled any unease she might’ve felt with it. She’d especially loved how he had run his thumb up and down the side of her palm, each sweep sending a new shiver through her veins.

Oh, yes. The next time they saw each other, she would guarantee there was more than holding hands, if she had to make the first move herself.

* * *

Mithian reached blindly for her coffee as she scrolled through the pictures she’d taken over her lunch break. She wanted to send Percival something special today, but nothing was jumping out at her. His texts that morning had been more terse than usual, but when she asked if anything was wrong, he’d just blamed work without going into specifics. A small part of her brain knew this could be the beginning of a brush-off, but for the time being, she was choosing to ignore said part to try to cheer him up.

Her fingers curled around empty air, and she glanced away from her phone to find Arthur standing behind the other chair at her table, her cup in his hand. “Someone’s going to get her purse nicked if she doesn’t start paying attention,” he chided, sliding into the seat.

“Someone’s going to get his ears boxed if he doesn’t give me my coffee,” she countered.

With a grin, Arthur slid it across the table. “What’s got you so distracted?”

“Just some pictures I took.” Everybody knew she dabbled in photography, though nobody took it seriously. Another point in Percival’s favor. “What’re you doing here? You’re a long way from work. Won’t dear old dad start to worry when he finds you slipped the leash?”

“Hardly.”

“He’s away on business, isn’t he?”

“What does it matter?” Which was Arthur’s way of avoiding having to say yes. “I came looking for you, actually. I called your office and they said you’d gone to lunch, so I thought I’d catch you on the way up, and here you are.”

Mithian set aside her phone to focus on Arthur. If he was stopping by in person, something was up. “Is everybody all right?”

“Oh, yeah, everybody’s fine.” His gaze was contemplative as it fixed on her. “How’s Percival?”

Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t mentioned a word of her day with Percival to anyone. In fact, nobody had known she was going to Kent except for her parents, because she’d had to explain why she couldn’t see them that day. It’d felt too important to keep it to herself, to keep _him_ to herself, without the others adding their commentary or opinion. Someone had found out, though, and the sinking fear that Percival had been the one to bring it up made her fear the tenor of his earlier texts all over again.

She didn’t bother answering when they both knew it was a game. “Who told you?”

“Gwaine.”

Her eyes popped wide. “Gwaine knows?”

Arthur shrugged. “Yeah, he wondered if I’d heard about your day trip.”

If she found out Percival had called Gwaine to brag, she was going to get on a stool and smash her camera over his head. Then she was going to pick up all the pieces and do it again with each one.

Her rising anger must’ve shown on her face because Arthur sat back as if to put more distance between them and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Before you go off on him, I think he found out from your mum. We were trying to get the gang together for an impromptu night out, and he volunteered to find you.”

“Of course, he did,” she muttered, though the relief that her faith in Percival wasn’t as misguided as she’d feared was bittersweet. “So why the special trip, Arthur? Is this to read me the riot act because I chose to keep one trip out of the city out of the gossip circle?”

His smile was soft and kind, the same brotherly smile he bestowed upon Morgana that drove her barmy. “Since when do I care about that sort of thing?” he said. “You’ve every right to your privacy.”

As if it heard him, her phone beeped with an incoming text message. They both glanced at it, but Mithian decided to ignore it for now.

“Then I don’t get why you’re here,” she said. “Nobody’s ever paid any attention before when I went out on dates.”

“That was when we didn’t know the bloke.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not about to warn me off him. You lot thinks he walks on water.” A description she now understood to a degree.

“Percival’s the best,” Arthur agreed. “He’s also a crusader. Been one since before we met.”

She waited for the punch line that never came. “So?”

“Did he tell you why he left London?”

“To take the job down in Kent.”

“To _live_ the job down in Kent,” he corrected. “He’s got this compulsive need to save people. That’s why he enlisted, and that’s why he does what he does.”

“I still don’t understand why any of this is a problem. Most people would consider a man like that perfect dating material.”

“Because Percival never stops.” Arthur leaned forward onto his folded arms, inviting intimacy, but it just made Mithian want to back away. “His job, the people he helps, they will always come first for him. He abandoned everybody he knew to take that opportunity in Maidstone, and if push comes to shove, he’ll abandon you, too.”

Mithian pressed her lips together to keep from immediately snapping. While she could appreciate Arthur’s concern about her getting hurt at some point in the unknown future, there was something slightly condescending about it as well, like she wasn’t smart or mature enough to handle her own love life. Granted, he’d known Percival a lot longer than she had, but they’d been out of direct, day-to-day contact for years. Nobody was the same person they were after that amount of time.

Her phone beeped again with another text message. Unsure what to say to Arthur yet, she chose to pick it up.

Both messages were from Percival.

_Need to talk to you_ the first one said.

The second was more direct.

_Coming into city. Tell me where we can meet. Someplace private preferably._

Her surprise must’ve shown on her face. “Everything all right?” Arthur asked.

“I’m not sure.” She tapped out a quick, _What time?_ , then waited for what she hoped would be an immediate response.

It was.

_6ish. Hell day_

Arthur disappeared as she typed back her answer. Percival had never shown anything but his smiling, happy face to her. This sounded serious.

_Tell me station & I’ll p/u_

_St. Pancras_. Five seconds later… _Thx. Really need you tonite_

Her hands were trembling when she set down her phone. She took a deep breath before she lifted her eyes to face down Arthur’s unnecessary worry.

“I like Percival,” she said. “A lot. He’s kind and perceptive and smart, but you know all that already, you don’t need me to tell you.”

“Mith—”

“Let me finish, Arthur.” She took a deep breath. “Yes, I went down to Kent to see him, and yes, it wasn’t just as friends, but honestly, I don’t know where our relationship is going. It’s too new for that. But if by some good fortune it does go somewhere, and I end up getting hurt as you seem to think is so inevitable, I’ll still consider my time with Percival worth it. He’s a great guy.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment. Then, his mouth curved into a small smile. “I hope for both of your sakes that he’s figured out that it’s not so bad to crusade for yourself every once in a while. You two could be very good for each other.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she teased, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was too worried about what was going on with Percival.

Arthur made small talk as she gathered up her bag to go back to work, going so far as to walk her to her office door. There, he leaned in and pecked her cheek. 

“Tell Percival not to be such a stranger next time you see him,” he said and walked away, leaving her even more focused on how she was going to sit through the next four hours without going mad from the curiosity.

At five to six, she found herself at St. Pancras, watching Percival’s train pull in from behind the ticket stiles. The evening sun glimmered through the glass ceiling, casting long shadows into the corners, and people streamed over the concourse, Londoners heading out after a long day’s work, others coming into the city for a night on the town. She kept having to twist and turn to see past the hordes. No more texts had come in since his initial request. More than once, she’d found her fingers hovering over her phone, itching to type him another message and ask what was going on.

Every time, she put her phone away.

It was tucked away in her pocket now, her hand curled possessively around it in case Percival texted when he got off the train. They hadn’t actually said where they were going to meet up, which was why she’d got as close as she could. She wanted to spot him as soon as possible.

And then there he was.

He stood head and shoulders above the people around him, though even from this distance, she could see the slump in the latter, a slowness in his step that didn’t seem like the Percival she’d spent the day with at all. The butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach turned to rocks, and her lungs tightened as she angled to put herself in direct view of the stile he seemed to be aimed at.

The extra movement was unnecessary. His gaze swept over the crowd and almost instantly landed on her. Only then did he lengthen his stride, brushing past the others without ever looking away.

He wore the blue shirt she’d helped him pick out, though his tie was loosened, his top button undone. She’d been right about how sharp he would look in it, but even as she recognized how delicious it made him, the realization that he’d been in court that morning cast a significant pall over her desire.

Something had happened there. Something bad. Bad enough that he’d come into London, a city he didn’t really like much anymore, just to seek out her company to talk about it.

The moment he was through the ticket stile, she hastened forward and held out her hand. “Come on,” she said, curling her fingers around his. He tightened his grip at the first contact, his hold almost painful, but Mithian ignored the desperation in it to turn on her heel and begin leading him to the taxi rank. Her determined pace helped get them through the crowd, though the queue was still horrendous by the time they reached the rank.

“Hey.” His soft voice accompanied the slight tug at their still entwined fingers, prompting her to turn to him. The smile he gave her was slow and tired, but warm enough for her to feel all the way to her toes. “Thank you. I know it was short notice.”

“I would’ve canceled plans with no notice if it meant you coming into the city to see me,” she replied honestly. She veered from commenting on how worried she’d been to instead add, “It sounded serious.”

His smiled faded. “Sometimes it feels like my whole life is too serious. The only times I’ve relaxed the past few days have been when I got your texts.”

Her heart twisted for him. “Well, they were meant to brighten your day, so I’m glad to hear they worked.”

They shuffled forward a few feet as the queue moved. “Where did you pick out for us?”

She’d had several ideas in mind, but now, seeing him, knowing that whatever was eating at him was most likely because of his job, only one would really work. If he agreed. “I thought…we could go back to my flat. Maybe order something to get delivered, or pick up some takeaway on the way. There’s a brilliant Indian around the corner, unless you fancy something else.”

The words came out in a rush, tumbling over one another to escape her nerves. It was pushy and highly likely too intimate for what he had in mind, but on the heels of how she felt about Percival, she wanted to take that risk.

“Do you have a flatmate?”

“No, we’d have complete privacy. That’s what you wanted, right?” And what she truly wanted to give him if so.

“Yeah. I just…yeah, that would be great.”

She couldn’t help but smile up at him as the fear she’d come on too strong unlocked and floated away. As the queue moved forward again, she turned around and followed it, only to feel strong arms come around her when they came to a halt. Gently, Percival pulled her back until her shoulders came into contact with his chest, solid and warm. His arms remained where they were, but it was his lips brushing against her ear that sent the shiver down her spine.

“Seeing you has already made this day better,” he murmured.

When he straightened, he tugged her closer, silently coaxing her to allow him to bear more of her weight. Mithian acquiesced, but she knew he needed more than that. She rested her arms over his and closed the embrace even further.


	5. Fills Me Up Like a Hollow Tree

_Chapter Five: Fills Me Up Like a Hollow Tree_

The minute Mithian pushed through the crowd and took his hand, Percival knew he’d made the right decision in coming to her.

He could’ve called others. People at work. Arthur. His old mentor. But when court had been dismissed and he’d had to sit there helpless as justice failed him, he’d wanted only one person to talk to, the one who’d shown him how hope could taste like sunshine, who’d refused to accept the obvious and searched for the truth instead, who wasn’t afraid of denying who she was when confronted with questions and the potential for flight. Mithian had been his only light in ever darkening days. On this, the bleakest since leaving London behind, he needed her before the darkness won.

As grateful as he was for their destination now, he would never have chosen her flat if she’d left it up to him. Their texting had been flirtatious, with more than a few hints they could take it further, but he hadn’t intended this visit to be about realizing their growing attraction. He would have settled for a corner in a quiet pub, someplace he could leech out all the anger and frustrations before they burrowed too deep for him to ever excise. He’d expected commiseration, maybe a spot of her own anger when she heard the whole story, and if he was lucky, her hand on his arm or shoulder, squeezing to let him know she was there and real.

But going to her flat…he wasn’t sure he had the fortitude to shuttle his more intimate feelings aside to focus on the pain. Even now, in the back of the taxi as they meandered through the London streets, she allowed Percival to nestle her into his side, his arm firmly around her, her cheek and palm resting on his chest. She hadn’t moved since giving the driver her address. Percival got the distinct impression she was silently counting his heartbeats, because there was no way it wasn’t booming into her ear. The thing of it was, though, he found the thought exhilarating, like she was taking measure of him from the inside out. The fact that she remained exactly where he needed her most implied what she discovered was worth it.

Neither uttered a word. When it became clear she was respecting his silence, Percival bent his head to bury his nose in her hair. She smelled of strawberries, a fresh bloom amidst the city’s mulch, and when he closed his eyes, they were back at their picnic, forgetting about the world and everything that fought against them.

The end of their ride came both too soon and not soon enough. Mithian sighed as the taxi pulled up to the curb, her slim body unfolding in lazy increments away from his. As she reached for her purse, Percival caught her wrist and shook his head.

“I’ve got it.”

A tiny line appeared between her brows, the decision to protest warring in her dark eyes. He was prepared to argue his case, but after a moment, she simply nodded and slipped out, affording him privacy to take care of the fare. 

The driver’s “Have a good night!” followed Percival onto the curb, where Mithian hovered near a narrow door. The street matched the slim buildings flourishing from the concrete, an unexpected haven as the taxi abandoned it to the solitude it had interrupted with its arrival. Mithian tilted her head for him to follow, then led him into the darkened building, climbing three sets of stairs before stopping at another door.

This one opened into so much green, he wondered if he’d stepped into a gardening center by mistake. A trellis had been mounted to the wall of the foyer, almost completely covered in a climbing bush with tiny, bright blue flowers, while potted shrubs and flowers lined a path that led to the tiny one-room flat. One corner was hidden by a gold and green chinoiserie screen, the edge of the bed it contained just visible at one side, and against an opposite wall was a galley kitchen, with three stools at the tall counter that allowed for eating. The floor had been stripped back to its hardwood and polished to a dull gleam. The only carpet to be seen was a pale alpaca rug in front of a burgundy settee.

Mithian stood in the middle of the room, fidgeting in obvious nervousness. “If I can’t get myself to the country,” she said, “I bring the country to me.”

“It’s brilliant,” Percival assured. “Much better than my place.”

“I know it’s small—”

“It’s perfect.” Her reference was the first time he’d remembered his height since entering, which never happened when he found himself in new surroundings. Too many years of having to be careful not to knock precious things over. “Did you want to order the food now, so we can get it out of the way?”

She started at the mention of food, a pale flush creeping into her cheeks. He itched to touch her face and feel the heat for himself, but he knew that would have to wait until more practical matters were taken care of. Bustling to the kitchen, she pulled a battered menu from one of the drawers and brought it back to him.

“Pick out what you want and I’ll call it in.” She began backing away to the hidden corner. “I’ll be right back.”

His eyes tracked her as she disappeared behind the screen, but though her absence forced him to consider his dining options, the sound of a zipper being drawn and clothes rustling drew his attention back. “What’re you doing?” he called out.

“Changing.”

He’d figured that part out for himself. “But you looked fine.”

“Well, I hope it was more than fine since it was for work,” she said with a laugh. “But we want to be comfortable, don’t we? And I make a right mess with Indian. If I change now, my dry cleaning bill will thank me later.”

She had a point. As he scanned over the menu, he shrugged out of his suitcoat and hung it on a hook he found half-buried in the trellis, then pulled his tie over his head and stuffed it into the coat pocket. By the time he was toeing off his shoes, Mithian reappeared, busy pulling her hair up into a messy bun.

“Make a decision?”

He had, but the choice escaped him as she approached. She’d chosen a pair of yoga pants that molded over her slim hips, with a black button-down knotted at her waist. He’d seen a thousand girls dressed in similar outfits before, but on Mithian, the casual attire took on a whole different meaning. It shouted how comfortable she felt around him, that she could strip away the mask to simply be herself with him. It hinted at the athleticism she possessed without being brazen about it. Best of all, it allowed her natural beauty to shine through, the sleek lines of her body, the cream of her skin.

When his silence began to stretch into awkwardness, he latched onto the only Indian food he could think of. “Chicken korma.”

She smiled and waved him toward the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything you want to drink from the fridge while I ring.”

By the time she got off the phone, Percival sat in the corner of the settee, sipping a Fosters. Mithian retrieved one for herself and curled up into the opposite corner, sitting sideways to face him.

“Here we are,” she said when he didn’t speak up. “Do you still want to talk?”

“Yeah.” Except now that the time had come, he didn’t know how to start or whether he could bring himself to bring such darkness into Mithian’s world. He rubbed at the condensation on the side of the can, swirling it around in random designs. “I’m not supposed to talk about it. Confidentiality, you know. But most of it’s a matter of public record now, so I guess I shouldn’t feel guilty that I need to.”

“Whatever you say doesn’t go beyond these walls,” Mithian said. “You have my word.”

“Thank you.” He would never have thought her the type to gossip anyway, but hearing her offer him that confidence of her own volition made it easier. “We’ve never talked much about what I do.”

“You work in children’s social services. I know that. I assumed as a caseworker of some sort, considering what Arthur said the night we met about your education.”

“Right. I sought it out, actually. I didn’t just fall into the job.”

“I always imagined it was something of a calling for you,” she said, her voice gentle. “You left behind everyone you knew for it. That’s admirable. Most people don’t have such conviction.”

It was eerie how well she knew him already, considering they’d spent so little actual time together. Had she talked to the others about him in the two weeks since their date? He wouldn’t blame her. They would have answers about what kind of man Percival was and hopefully offer assurances if she needed them. Funny that the thought hadn’t ever occurred to Percival, though. After the day they’d spent together, he’d felt like he knew exactly what sort of woman Mithian was. 

The sort who gazed at him now with a patience that wasn’t put on, in spite of how much he was dragging this out.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t have a good childhood of my own.” It felt important to make that clear. He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him when he hardly deserved it. “My mum and dad were great.”

His use of past tense did not go unnoticed. “Were?”

He nodded. “They passed after I was shipped out the first time. They were older when I was born, so they were in their sixties when I left home. Mum died of breast cancer, and Dad…well, he didn’t know how to live without her, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She sounded it. “I do what I do so other kids can have the same luck I did growing up. So many of them don’t. And somebody has to fight for them.”

He loved the way her mouth curved into that small, knowing smile. It made him want to lean forward and eat her up, starting with nibbling at her soft lower lip.

“You must look like a knight in shining armor when those kids meet you,” she mused. “All you’re missing is a sword.”

Percival chuckled. “I can’t imagine I’d fit in armor very well. The sets I’ve seen in museums look like they’re made for midgets.”

She laughed. “Everyone’s a midget compared to you.”

“Maybe.” He liked how she could make everything seem more tolerable, just with a few words. It was easier to go on, though he had no idea if it would stay like that. “I’ve been working on this case. A little boy whose teacher called us up about. She was worried about him. She thought he might be having problems at home. So I did a home visit to check it out.”

“How old’s the boy?”

“Seven. Shyest kid I’ve ever met who was still outside the system. Wouldn’t look you in the eye, wouldn’t speak. His teachers actually thought he might be autistic for a while there, but when they recommended he get tested, the parents never followed through.”

“So is he?”

“No. Just scared to death of his dad. I don’t think I would’ve got in at all if he’d been home when I called. Lucky for me, I got the mother, and when she saw I had police with me, she broke down.”

That’d been a tough afternoon. He hadn’t been prepared for it, though in hindsight, he probably should’ve been. But the records from the school hadn’t indicated problems prior to that year, and with both parents together and gainfully employed, he’d gone in hoping for the best.

Mithian remained silent as he went on. “I got both of them out of there that day. We thought it would be easy. She seemed willing to talk to us about what was going on at home and even signed off on me evaluating her son.” He sighed. “But then the father showed up. A rookie sent him in to talk to her in private, and next thing I know, she’s taking it all back and all three of them were walking out the door.”

Her eyes widened. “Can they do that?”

“Yes. Unfortunately. We had enough to pursue the case, but from that point on, it was us against them. You’d think with so many different agencies involved, someone would’ve been able to get through to the mother, but no, nobody could even get inside the house after that. We did what we could, of course. I had all the testimony and reports from the school. I had notes from the boy’s surgery. I even got a statement from his grandmother. I figured once we started presenting it in court, the mother might actually come around and back us.”

He rubbed at his eyes. Hannah Martin would forever haunt him. She’d sat there at her husband’s side, her thin face pale except for the bruised shadows of insomnia beneath her eyes, and didn’t utter a single word during the entire procedure. Their solicitor, one of the best in Maidstone and a personal friend of the father’s, had pulled some fancy lawyer trick to keep her out of it, allowing her husband to be the sole voice of their defense.

“And the court sided with them,” Mithian said softly. When he nodded, she scooted forward and rested her hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry, Percival.”

“I don’t understand how a mother could do that to her own son.” Bitterness laced his tone, but he couldn’t hold it back any longer. “All we want to do is help them. How could she not see that?”

“Do you think she’s afraid?”

“Of course, she’s afraid. My point is, she doesn’t have to be.”

“But she can’t be the first mother you’ve seen who’s afraid of the father of her children,” Mithian pressed. “What is it about this particular family that makes you so angry?”

“Because that night we got the boy and his mum out of the house, I looked him in the eye and promised him he’d never have to be scared again, and that son of a bitch turned me into a liar.” That was the hardest part about the whole debacle in court. The whole while he’d been watching Hannah Martin, all Percival could think about was how her son would always believe the men in his life would fail him because Percival hadn’t been able to follow through on his word. Nothing stung more than having his honor besmirched like that, especially if it left a defenseless child in harm’s path. Anything could happen to the boy now, and there was nothing Percival could do about it.

“You’re not a liar.” She slid across the rest of the way to slip her arms around his waist. “You meant it when you said it.”

Her weight was soothing, and though he didn’t feel like he deserved it, he tugged her closer to better absorb her warmth. “I still broke my promise.” His voice almost broke, and he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply as he latched onto the peace she offered. 

“I don’t believe for a second you’re just going to give up on him,” she murmured.

“I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Now, maybe. But you’re still upset about the judgment. Get some distance from that, and you never know what you might come up with.”

He didn’t believe her, but it felt good to pretend while he remained in the circle of her embrace. They sat there without speaking, surrounded by her substitute countryside, for minutes on end where all he had to do was listen to her soft breathing and stroke the fine line of her back where it bowed against him. 

She was the succor he’d never realized he needed, a balm to the blames and blows he suffered in his fight to do the right thing. When he’d been enlisted, he’d had other soldiers to help carry the weight, but they’d done so without recognizing it aloud, a natural extension of their duty and selves that never needed acknowledgment. In the civilian world, he lacked the same ramparts, shouldering what he could without realizing it was slowly chipping away at his resolve. 

It dawned on him that was why it’d been so difficult coming to London the night he’d met her. He’d been forced to see the strength he’d left behind in his friends. Had that been why he’d been so attracted to her from the start? She was a friend but not, new to the group yet comfortable enough amongst them for him to consider her safe.

A knock came at the door. Mithian shifted against his lap to lift her head, a pretty scowl wrinkling her nose. “Food’s here.”

As she rose, her fingertips tickled across his ribs when she pulled away, and the soft curve of her ass brushed across his groin. His body reacted to the soft touches, blood rushing to extremities he better not think about if he didn’t want to embarrass himself when she turned around.. 

No, he decided. That hadn’t been the reason. He’d learned more about her in the time away from the others, that magnificent day when he’d thought anything was possible. Maybe he did yearn for the support she was so keen to offer, but he craved more than Mithian’s friendship. He wanted to sink into her flesh and not emerge for days, forget the outside world and stay here in the sanctuary she provided with her kisses as sustenance and her laughter as air.

Resting his head against the back of the settee, Percival got lost in her voice as she spoke to the delivery boy. However long she allowed him to stay, he’d take it.


	6. Descending Waves of Graceful Pleasure

_Chapter Six: Descending Waves of Graceful Pleasure_

He hardly ate a thing.

Oh, he took a bite here and there, and when she offered him a samosa, he ate it straight from her fingers, but when Mithian set aside her empty plate, Percival’s was still half-full, as was the carton the korma had come in.

His beer was gone, though. Considering the day he’d had, she thought it more surprising he hadn’t asked for more than the one.

“I’m sorry.”

She was halfway to the sink with their dishes when his soft words stopped her. “For what?”

He shrugged, but even as strong as he was, the slow motion made it seem like it took a terrible effort for him to do it. “For not being good company.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She dropped the plates on the edge of the counter to get back to him faster. Cleaning up wasn’t nearly as important as Percival. “That’s not what this was about.”

“I should go.”

When he stood, she blocked his path, daring to rest her palm against his chest as if she had the strentch to physically prevent him from leaving. “The only way you’re leaving is if you absolutely must, because you have to work in the morning or because you can’t stand hanging around me any more. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you walk out that door just because you think you’re saving me some kind of trouble. You’re not. I want your company regardless of the kind of day you’ve had. Maybe even more after a day like today because that means I can give back a little of what you’ve given me since we met.”

His lashes ducked as he glanced at her hand, and though she felt self-conscious about her posturing, Mithian held her ground. “It just doesn’t seem fair,” he said, his voice almost too low to be heard.

“Let me be the judge of that.” She edged closer, splaying her fingers to soften the gesture. “Do you want to go?”

Mute, he shook his head.

“Do you need to go because of work?”

Another silent no.

“So you have hours before the last train. Let’s take advantage of that. Tell me what you want to do.”

She waited for Percival to answer with more patience than she would’ve said she possessed prior to meeting him. When it came, his words squeezed her heart.

“I’d like to hold you,” he said. “Like we did on the way here. It’s…it helps me remember the world’s not always such a bad place.”

“Of course.” If she’d been been bolder, she might’ve made the suggestion herself. He’d been most at peace when he’d wrapped his arms around her, both at the station and in the taxi. Percival was tactile by nature, she’d discovered, and giving such a simple thing was more than her pleasure.

Entwining their fingers, she led him away from the door and toward her bed. The moment he recognized where she was taking them, Percival tensed.

“This wasn’t what I meant,” he said.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you have a problem with it?”

“Well. No.”

“Neither do I.”

At first glance, she wasn’t sure her double bed was going to accommodate Percival’s long length. He didn’t voice a complaint, though, waiting as she knocked all the pillows that buried her duvet to the floor. She crawled on first, with Percival spooning behind. His strong arm draped around her waist as she nestled into his body, her ass fitting neatly against his groin.

“Is this good?” She sounded a little breathless, and maybe she was, with the power of him so close and in her most intimate space stealing some of her air away.

“Can you let your hair down?” he asked.

Without a word, she reached up and tugged the knot free. Percival sighed as it spilled over her shoulders and promptly buried his nose in it.

Though two layers of clothing separated them, Mithian couldn’t escape how hard and hot Percival’s body was. Heat seeped into the back of her thighs where his bent legs pressed against her, and the weight of his forearm added anchorage she hadn’t realized she wanted so badly. Her muscles melted as his breath fanned down her neck, but Percival never moved, seemingly content to curl up there exactly as he’d requested.

She molded her hand over the back of his. When she stroked her thumb along the curve of his, his grip tightened, and a low rumble emanated from his chest.

“That’s dangerous,” he murmured.

Her hair tickled across her skin where his words floated across it. “Why?” she said without stopping. She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

She laughed softly. “I practically dragged you into my bed. I’d say that seems pretty clear you don’t have to be.”

His warm lips grazed across the delicate skin below her ear. “I would never do anything without your say-so.”

Inwardly, she scolded herself for missing the obvious. Of course, he’d play it safe. In his line of work, consent was everything.

Though it meant breaking out of his embrace, Mithian twisted around to face him. She meant to tell him what he needed to hear, but his haunted gaze stilled her tongue. He looked so lost, exactly as he’d sounded as he’d told the tale of the poor boy he couldn’t help. Words wouldn’t be enough, not yet anyway.

The stretch to meet his mouth was not a long one. She didn’t close her eyes, keeping the caress light and gentle. At the first contact, Percival caught his breath, unmoving for several seconds except for the faintest of quivers in his lower lip. The arm that had slipped away returned, his fingertips sliding beneath her shirt to caress the small of her back, but still, he was careful, each touch against her almost fragile.

When she pulled back, she replaced her lips on his with her fingers, tracing their shape. “I wish you could spend the night,” she whispered.

His eyes searched hers. “Is that an invitation?”

“If you want it to be.”

“I’d like to stay then.”

“What about work?”

The corners of his mouth tightened. She wished she hadn’t brought it up. “I called my supervisor when the judgment came through. I don’t have to go in if I don’t want to.”

Her heart thumped so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. “Good.”

Their second kiss was firmer than its predecessor, her lips sealing over his in a rush of startling desire. With a groan, Percival opened to her, letting their tongues twist together as he pressed her back into the bed. She clung to his shoulders, reveling in the way even his kiss made all the heat in her body pool between her legs, but while his weight bore her down, he never smothered, never let it become too much as his hands slid up her sides beneath her shirt.

“Let me see you,” he rasped when they parted.

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

Percival sat back, leaving her spread out before him. For a split second, she felt vulnerable and exposed, which was silly considering how much clothing she wore. But the way his hungry gaze swept over her made her shiver, quickening her breath, scalding every inch of skin bared to the air.

Until he slowly leaned forward and slipped beneath her shirt again. It bunched around his knuckles as he pushed it up, and she lost sight of him for a few moments when it passed over her face. He slid it over her head with practiced ease, as if this was the hundredth time they’d been together rather than the first, then dragged his fingertips along the underside of her arms as he freed the garment the rest of the way.

She giggled and twisted when it tickled, which drew the first smile she’d seen from him in too long tonight. “Unfair,” she said. “Now you know my weakness.”

His hands came to rest on her hips, but though she lay there in only her black bra and yoga pants, he was taking his time looking away from her flushed face. “I promise never to use it against you. Unless you ask for it.”

She arched a brow. “And why, pray tell, would I ever ask you to tickle me?”

“Stranger things have happened,” he replied cryptically.

A retort readied itself upon her tongue, only to freeze when he skimmed his hands over the curve of her hips. His attention had shifted to her body, and his nostrils flared as he stripped away the yoga pants, leaving her bared in her underwear to his hungry gaze. She wanted to see him, too, but this moment was for him, for what he needed to forget about the horrors of his day. Her turn would come soon enough. In the meantime, she had to fight not to squirm as he drank her in, devouring her with desire-darkened eyes.

She couldn’t remember the last man who had looked at her like that. Who could make her feel so beautiful and special with only a look. She wasn’t sure any man had ever achieved what Percival managed just by being himself.

Bracing on his knuckles, he crawled back up the bed until he hovered above her. He blocked out everything, but it wasn’t because of his size. When he was in front of her, she forgot there was a world beyond the pair of them.

“Doesn’t seem fair I have so many clothes on and you don’t,” he said.

Her mouth tipped. It was too delicious not to repeat his earlier question. “Is that an invitation?”

But where she’d played it safe, Percival baldly stated, “Yes.”

Her arms felt like they belonged to someone else as she began to undo the buttons on his shirt. He remained steady, unmoving, unblinking while his shirt fell open, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, not even to appreciate the fine cut of his muscles as they became visible. Each second weighed more than the one before it. Did he feel it, too? She wanted to say yes. The way his eyes burned into hers seemed to testify to it.

When she’d tugged his shirt free from his trousers, he finally shifted, lowering himself in precious, devastatingly slow inches until her breasts brushed against his naked chest. Her nipples were already hard, but the scrape of lace across the sensitive tips made her gasp.

That small sound shattered Percival’s control. 

His mouth claimed hers in a sweeping kiss that left no doubt what he wanted from her. She raked her nails along his back in her haste to clutch at him, and in response, he nipped at her lower lip, soothing it over with a taste of his tongue.

Mithian shuddered, her moans incapable of being held back. Coiling her leg around his, she tugged against the marble limb, desperate to feel him against every part of her, relieved when he complied and the thick line of his cock nudged against her pussy.

Percival helped by sliding a broad hand beneath her ass and locking their lower halves together, his kisses neverending, their mingled breaths escalating faster than her pulse. She wished she still didn’t have so many clothes on. More, she wished _he_ didn’t, so she could touch him as boldly as he did her, map each decisive line of his flesh into muscle memory so she’d have this night to remember when he was gone.

A pang shot through her at the prospect of his departure. It was inevitable. His life was in Kent. Hers was here. Tomorrow would come faster than she’d want it to.

Deliberately, she shoved away those thoughts, focusing again on the here and now. She wouldn’t let anything spoil this, certainly not reality where he broke down at the mere hint he’d failed someone and she had to settle for texts and pics to be a part of his everyday life.

He blazed a path along her jaw, down her neck to the soft hollow of her throat. Mithian arched into the caresses, encouraging him to nip at the tender skin, but soon, it wasn’t enough, and she cupped the back of his head to guide him lower, where his tongue and talented lips could scorch even more of her.

Percival caught the lacy edge of her bra between his teeth, then looked up at her through his lashes. Without uttering a word, she let him go to reach behind and undo the hook. Free of their confines, her nipples puckered in the cooler air, but Percival took care of that, too, pushing the flimsy material out of his way to suck the closest one hard into his mouth.

Her brain short-circuited at that point, instinct taking over. She fumbled at his waist, frustrated with his belt before the buckle finally came free. The heavy metal fell against her mound, a dull thud that helped ground her as Percival switched to her other breast.

“Get these off,” she panted.

His tongue flicked across the nipple one last time before he lifted his head. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to wait if we do that.”

“Noted.” She grinned. “Now get them off.”

With a chuckle, Percival lifted up to finish opening his fly for her. His thick shaft nudged against the back of her hand, the dripping tip poking out the band of his black boxer briefs. As he pushed his trousers down his legs, she braved running her fingertip through the slick on his skin, then bringing it to her mouth to suck clean.

Percival groaned. “I left my wallet in my coat.”

Which was on the other side of the screen and would him to get up to retrieve.

“You really think I’m the type of girl not to be prepared?” She jerked her chin toward the nightstand. “Top drawer.”

“Thank god,” he muttered. Stripping out of the rest of his clothes happened at the same time he rolled to the side to get to the condoms she kept for emergencies. Mithian took the moment to shimmy out of her pants, tossing them out of the way before he settled between her legs again.

“Let me.”

Plucking the packet from his fingers, Mithian tore it open as she sat up, trying not to drool over his long, pretty cock. She’d never call it pretty out loud—guys were too silly about that word being used about them in any fashion most of the time—but it really was. Long and smooth, it curved toward his flat belly, the glistening head peeking out from his foreskin with a sheen of pre-come. One of these days, she was going to worship it for hours, but for now, she wanted it inside her, pounding into her until she was screaming his name.

His balls visibly tightened when she grasped the shaft to keep it in place as she rolled on the condom. Though she was as eager as he, she deliberately took her time, allowing her fingertips to caress his hot skin, her nails to scratch against the closely trimmed hair at the base. She fisted his length once it was on, running up and down in the guise of smoothing it out, only to have Percival push her back onto the bed with a growl of frustration.

Mithian laughed. “Someone’s in a hurry.”

He pulled her hand away and pinned it over her head. With his other, he dipped between her legs to find her slick and sensitive. “You want this just as much as I do.”

Her smile softened. “Yes.” When he pushed three fingers inside, she gasped. “Now who’s teasing?”

His eyes settled on her mouth, and he leaned down to kiss her as his thumb glanced over her clit. He swallowed down her whimpers, refusing her the right to squirm away or strengthen the contact as he continued to play, drawing circles along her labia and over the hood as he slowly pumped in and out. Rational thought evaporated. She was a live nerve, ignited by him, raw and aching when he finally withdrew. 

“Please,” she heard and realized it was her, begging as she’d begged no man. She kissed him again, hoping he would get it, to understand how badly she needed more, but unsure she could convey it properly.

She did. In a single stroke, he buried himself inside her.

Neither of them moved right away. Her body had locked, lungs as well as limbs, awash in sensations of being stretched and filled. She buried her face in his neck and listened to his ragged breathing, taking comfort in the fact that he was as affected by this as she was.

He murmured something unintelligible. When she tried to find her voice to ask him what he said, he began to rock.

Each short slide ground the base of his cock into her clit. Mithian cried out at the electrifying contact, her thighs quivering in surrender. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips in hopes that would stave off what felt like a too-soon orgasm, but Percival took it as encouragement, lengthening his thrusts.

Her only recourse was to focus on him. She bit at his shoulder, licking over the marks only to find a new patch to taste. He was salty-sweet, hot against her tongue. The one thing she might relish more than this would be the tang of his heavy cock, but that had to wait until next time, when they both weren’t so desperate for this connection and they could take their time getting to discover each other’s bodies.

Distraction didn’t work nearly long enough. 

Her orgasm ripped through her, sudden and violent. Mithian bowed away from the bed as every muscle in her stiffened, drawing deep-throated groans from Percival when her pussy clamped down around his cock. He continued to drive into her, no longer heeding any care, but she was too far gone to mind.

He came with her name on his lips, a muted song she wasn’t even sure she was supposed to hear. With her release ebbing, she could concentrate on his, smoothing her palms down the knotted muscles of his back, drinking in the sounds of their damp skin rubbing against each other. She loved the way he couldn’t even lift his head when the rest of him relaxed and curled her hand around his nape.

“I don’t want to move,” he murmured.

She chuckled. “You’ve moved enough today, I think.”

Contrary to his words, though, he rolled to the side, slipping out of her as he tugged her with him. She settled against his sweaty chest as he pulled off the condom and then grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to wrap it in. Soon enough, his arm was around her back, stroking up and down her spine.

“This wasn’t how I saw today ending,” he said quietly. “I just needed to talk to you or go mad for thinking about it so much.”

She smiled in the darkness. “That makes it all the better.”


	7. Sideways Falling

_Chapter Seven: Sideways Falling_

As hard as it was to say goodbye in the morning, they both knew it had to be done. Percival might’ve got the day off, but Mithian hadn’t, and one sleepover date did not constitute reason enough to call in, no matter how badly she wanted to. They agreed on a taxi instead of the Underground, and at her office, Percival cupped her face and kissed her.

“Thank you.” His eyes were haunted again, the reality of his return to Kent inevitable. When he started to withdraw, she caught his hand and held it in place for several more seconds, tilting into his touch. The corner of his mouth lifted. “You make it very easy to think about coming back more permanently.”

She wasn’t going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. He didn’t really want to come back to London. He wanted the escape. She couldn’t encourage him to satisfy her own selfish desires to see him more often.

“Ring me tonight,” she said.

He nodded, and she pulled away. On the curb, she watched him redirect the taxi driver, giving him a tiny wave when he finished and looked back at her.

A little part of her heart went with him. He couldn’t know that, of course. She could hardly admit it to herself. But it was true, nonetheless.

* * *

He thought of her for most of the ride back to Maidstone. It might’ve been easier to sit back, close his eyes, and relive the dark hours in her bed, when the heat of her body and voice had done more for his damaged spirits than any drug ever could. Instead, Percival gazed out his window, watching London slip away and the increasingly familiar countryside take its place, and remembered her that way, juxtaposing the peace he felt with her over the landscape they both loved.

As much as he’d protected his heart before, he knew all too well he could love this girl beyond anything he could’ve ever dreamed. She made him feel strong without any expectations, and better, without sacrificing her own inner strength. She challenged him to laugh, to think, to be better. She’d given him solace without judgment or hesitation, and now, he would have the memories of this first time to carry with him for the rest of his life.

Mithian was a revelation. The moment couldn’t come soon enough to see her again.

Rain was tipping down when he got off the train. Bending his shoulders, he jogged to his Jeep, shaking off the wet from his hair as he slid behind the wheel. He needed to get home and take a shower, but the immediate prospect of facing his empty flat made him mourn his night with Mithian.

As heat flooded his car and the windows began to steam, he checked the clock. Too early to ring her. She would still be at work. A text wouldn’t be out of hand, though, so he typed out a quick note, letting her know he’d arrived home and would call around seven.

Ten seconds after he sent, he tapped out another one.

_Miss you already_

He hit send before he talked himself out of it.

Second phase of stalling on going home came with stopping by his office. Though he’d taken the day off, he saw no reason he shouldn’t stop in and check his messages. It would give him a good start on tomorrow and distract him from thoughts of Mithian until he could talk to her again.

He’d barely walked through the front door when Freya popped out of a conference room and blocked his path.

“What’re you doing here?” she demanded.

From the way her eyes flashed, he knew she wasn’t kidding around. When he’d first started with social services, he’d been as fooled by her delicate features as unsuspecting solicitors and belligerent parents were. But behind the wide eyes and solemnity was a spine of steel, forged from the abusive childhood that had driven her throughout her career. Her record was one of the best in the department, and Percival respected her more than anyone else.

Which made this confrontation more than a little odd.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I thought you were getting away for a couple days.”

“I was. Now I’m back.” He frowned. “You still haven’t said what’s wrong.”

Grabbing his elbow, she hauled him into an adjacent office and shut the door behind them. “There was a write-up in the _Messenger_ online about the Martin case.”

The _Messenger_ was the weekly local paper, but a notice online about a court proceeding wasn’t unheard of. “So?”

“So Jared Martin has decided he’s the victim here.” Her lips thinned, her thin form practically vibrating. “The write-up isn’t about reporting what happened. It’s a witch hunt against the department. He’s claiming the social worker in charge has a vendetta against him and now he’s out for blood. Or a public apology. But probably blood.”

“That’s ridiculous! I didn’t even know who Jared Martin was until the school made the report.”

“Oh, he’s going after them, too.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on the fact that it’s not the first time you’ve worked with Connor’s teachers.”

He ground his teeth. “The entire department has worked with that school.”

She held her hands up to placate him. “I know that, and you know that, and everyone else here knows that, but the fact of the matter is, Jared Martin’s friends don’t know that. And as you know, his friends seem very invested in protecting his good name.”

His head spun. While the department was often focus of scrutiny—the very nature of their jobs made that impossible to escape—their results were impeccable, their ethics unshakeable. Percival had never been at the center of a problematic case like that, however, so he wasn’t too sure what happened now that he was.

At his silence, Freya stepped forward and laid a careful hand on his arm. “PR is handling it. There isn’t one person in this office who thinks anything he’s said is valid.”

That hadn’t even occurred to him. “I should go talk to them, then.”

But when he turned to leave, Freya darted around to stop him again. “Your name has been left out of the papers so far. The only way we can make sure it stays that way is if you stay out of it.”

He blinked. She couldn’t be saying what he thought she was saying. “How am I supposed to defend myself?”

“You let PR do it.”

Nobody ever fought his battles for him. Percival refused to let that happen. Yet, here was Freya, telling him he had to do just that. “You’re the one who said he was out for blood.”

“And he’s not going to get it if you do what you’re told,” she countered. “I was going to call you tonight and explain it all.”

“Tonight? Why not tomorrow?” When she flushed, he knew immediately why. “No. No. They can’t suspend me without specific charges.”

“They’re not suspending you. They want you to go on sabbatical until it goes away. Get out of Kent, maybe go up north for a couple weeks. You could do one of those retreats with your ex-soldier buddies or something. You’re still going to get paid—”

“That’s not the point!” He wanted to smash his fist through the wall. “I did nothing wrong. I’m not going to just hide in a corner until it’s safe to come out again. That makes me look guilty.”

Her features hardened. “One. Nobody thinks you did anything wrong. I’m not going to say that again. Two. You can’t stay uninvolved and you know it. If you stick around, we both know you’ll end up confronting Mr. Martin when the very last thing you should be doing is giving him more ammunition. Three. The department wants you on sabbatical. If you refuse, you’ll give them no choice but to suspend you. Four—”

“Suck it up and stop arguing,” he finished for her, more than a trace of bitterness in his voice.

She sighed. “It’s better this way. Please, Percival. Trust me.”

She wasn’t giving him much of a choice. Carefully, he stepped around her, pulled open the door with barely controlled restraint, and walked out of the building.

His hands ached when he quit the engine in front of his flat, his white-knuckled grip on the wheel all the way home the only way he could keep from losing it. London seemed a million miles away right now. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and convince her to take the day off, let them both play truant and forget about the outside world for a few more hours. That had been the whole point of going in the first place, but all of that surcease was wasted now

Though he was soaked through, uncaring about how wet he got as he carried his bag inside, he grabbed his laptop and logged on to read the article for himself.

Freya had been kind. Jared Martin turned the entire ordeal around, blaming Percival—albeit unnamed—for trying to destroy his happy family, calling forth every argument against liberal involvement in right to privacy acts as reason to start a witch hunt. He even got his solicitor in on the action, who called the court’s decision the only sane response in a nightmare of madness.

It was a very good thing he hadn’t had lunch. He would’ve lost it, otherwise.

His thoughts were in turmoil. On one hand, it ate him alive, knowing what the department wanted from him. Truth was on Percival’s side. Running away was cowardice.

On the other, they could easily have placed him on suspension and not been as generous on the matter. Their work was tenuous on good days. It was too easy for needy kids to get lost in the red tape, or for witnesses to change their minds, or for a single social worker to counter what everybody else believed. Jared Martin had already proven he wasn’t afraid to use his friends to get what he wanted. He could make things very difficult, not just for Percival but for everyone.

When his phone beeped with a text, he was startled to see it was coming up on eight o’clock. Time had escaped him, but it ground to a halt at the sight of Mithian’s message on his screen.

_Are we on for tonight?_

He hit her number, though he wasn’t sure what to say when she picked up except… “I lost track of time, sorry.”

“No worries.” She sounded bright and breathless, evoking memories of her smile when she’d waved him goodbye. Jesus, had that just been this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago. “It was one of those days, I think. I was slammed at work, and before I knew it, time to go home. I didn’t even get a chance to eat lunch, can you believe it? I’m noshing on the leftovers from last night, but trust me, there won’t be any left once I’m done.”

Percival squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted so desperately to be a part of the carefree world she inhabited. How nice must it be to know people’s lives didn’t hang on whether or not you did your job correctly? Mithian could lend a helpful ear, a caring caress, but her day-to-day was nothing like his. And the thing of it was, he knew from the bottom of his heart that he wouldn’t trade his job for anything, in spite of people like Jared Martin. Such a double-edged sword. One he wasn’t even sure he understood, so how could he expect Mithian to?

“I’ll have to see what I can scrounge up,” he said, though he wasn’t very hungry.

“You can always get takeaway.”

“Maybe.” He was going to have to tell her, though his stomach was sick at the prospect. “Listen, something happened today after I got home.”

“Oh, no! What?” In a flash, she’d gone from perky to soft concern, reminiscent of the night before. That made it easier to continue.

“I made the mistake of stopping in at the office.” Briefly, he told her about the article, leaving out all the names though at this point, he knew that was a pointless endeavor. “So now they’re sending me away so they mop up the mess.”

“Oh, Percival…” He could practically feel her arms across the distance, comforting him like they’d done last night. “Did you want to stay here?”

It was tempting. At Mithian’s, he could go back to pretending, focus on her and not the failure he’d made of everything. But… “I can’t, but thank you.”

“What about Arthur’s, then?”

No pressure or questions about why he’d said no. Even more reason to adore her. “Because London’s too close. It’s too easy for me to hop on a train and come back.”

“But that’s good. It means you can get back to work faster once they’ve cleared it up.”

“No, it means I’ll be spending all my time obsessing about how close they are and I can’t do a bloody thing. I’m sorry, Mithian. I can’t do it.”

“Then where are you going?”

He sighed. He didn’t have a lot of options when he eliminated London. “I think I’m going to call a mate from when I was enlisted. He’s got a place in Aberystwyth now. A change of scenery might do me good.” As well as the gym Ewan owned. Percival could take his frustrations out on weight machines and punching bags in place of Jared Martin’s face.

“Wow, Wales. That’s…pretty far.”

“Rather the point.”

“Have you been before?”

“No. You?”

“I went to Cardiff once. When I was in college. Aberystwyth’s on the coast, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. A fair distance north.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Not too long, I hope.”

“Yeah, the sooner they get this fixed, the better it will be for everybody.”

That was an understatement. He rubbed at his tired eyes. “Listen, I better go. I need to call Ewan and make sure he doesn’t mind me crashing there before I make too many plans.”

“Oh. All right.” Her disappointment was plain. “Will you let me know when you get things sorted?”

“Sure. Bye.”

He felt like an asshole when he disconnected. Mithian deserved better than one word answers. At the very least, he should’ve mentioned how wonderful she’d been during his visit, and how badly he wanted to see her again once this was over. But none of that had come out, and now it was too late.

_She’ll understand. She’s a smart girl. She knows I’ve got a lot on my mind._

He hoped.

* * *

She took a shower, praying the scalding water would burn away her sorrowful mood. But with her head bent beneath the spray, wet strands of her hair sticking to her cheeks, echoes of Percival’s distant voice won out.

What was happening to him was completely unfair. In no sane world should such actions be justified, and yet, Mithian knew those kind of people were out there. The instant she’d disconnected with Percival, she’d got online to read the article for herself, hoping against hope that perhaps Percival was overreacting about the whole situation. Instead, she’d been sickened with every malignant word. It was clearly a trash piece, designed to make the department, and Percival especially, look like vindictive monsters. Anyone who came into contact with Percival would know the allegations were false.

And he was the one being driven out of his home? Unbelievable.

She’d cried for him, then, for the broken man who’d needed her the night before, for the confused man running away from her today. Oh, she knew in her head this wasn’t about her. He was leaving because they were forcing his hand, and going to Wales made more sense than coming to London.

But it still hurt. She felt shut out. Helpless. Like nothing would be right until she saw Percival again.

Whenever that might be.


	8. Come On, Courage

_Chapter Eight: Come On, Courage_

For three days, Mithian waited for word from Percival that everything was all right. He sent her a text the following morning saying he’d cleared everything with his friend in Aberystwyth, then another popped up that evening about reception being awful for the drive but after that…nothing. No pictures of the countryside, no selfies, not even a quick note complaining about beds that were too short.

She tried not to be disappointed, but she was. She wanted to be a port for him, like she’d been when he’d come to London. Maybe it was expecting too much of their budding relationship, but considering how far they’d come since meeting, she hadn’t thought so.

In the absence of news, she combed through the Kent newspapers, searching for anything related to the Martin case and the father’s grudge against Percival. She found a short article the day Percival arrived in Wales, more of the same though the vitriol remained stringent. No response came from social services, or at least, no public one. It begged the question of what they thought handling the matter was all about.

By the time the weekend came, she was ready to crawl the walls with worry. Her texts to Percival had gone largely unanswered. She couldn’t even be sure he was getting them. But he had to be monitoring his phone. He’d been determined to come home as soon as possible. To avoid looking like a clingy girlfriend, she stopped bugging him, hoping what she’d sent was enough to show she cared.

Sitting on her hands was driving her mad, though. The idea came to her on the way home from work on Friday. First thing Saturday morning, she was on a train for Maidstone.

Percival’s problems stemmed from the fact Jared Martin had got away with his crimes against his family. Nobody was prepared to testify against him, and the scant physical evidence they had wasn’t enough to swing the judgment in their favor. If proof could be produced that supported the abuse claims, he would have no choice but to issue a public apology. With the restrictions of red tape, Percival might not be able to sneak around to get it, but nothing could stop Mithian from aiming her camera in Jared Martin’s direction.

She’d spent the night before digging up as much information on the Martins as she could. What she couldn’t find, she’d reached out for help on. To Gwaine, of all people.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he’d said when she’d called. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need your help.”

“I thought Percival was your go-to man these days.”

“He is. This is for him. Except I can’t tell you very much because he asked me to keep it confidential.”

“Whatever you want, luv. Percival’s got me out of a scrap or two over the years. I’ll do what I can to help even the score.”

She’d given the name without any specifics, grateful when Gwaine hadn’t asked questions. When he called back an hour later with the various addresses she requested, his sole comment was, “Good to see someone fighting for him for a change.”

With those addresses in hand and her GPS on her phone, Mithian set out from the station to get a lay of the town. The day was absolutely abysmal, the sky slate and sullen with rain just biding its time before drenching the world below. A brisk wind kept coming and going, whipping against the taxi’s windows as if warning her to stay away.

_Not on your life._ Or Percival’s, for that matter. This might be Jared Martin’s town, but Mithian wasn’t going anywhere until she’d come for what she needed.

The Martin home was located in a secluded section near a place called Mote Park. She looked wistfully at the lancscape as they passed, aging trees overlooking a meandering lake while in the distance, a stone manor hinted at elegance of years gone by.

“That’s lovely,” she said.

“That’s Mote House,” the driver replied. “Everything’s open if you fancy taking a look around the park. Maybe after you’re done visiting.”

“Maybe.”

But when they reached the address, she hesitated. The house was on its own, tucked away from the road with a double gate at the mouth of the shingled driveway. Though the gate was currently open, there would be no way for her to get close enough to look around without being entirely too conspicuous.

“On second thought, maybe you could take me into the park first,” she said. “I can always walk over and let them know I’ve arrived once I’ve got some fresh air.”

“You got a brolly? Supposed to rain again this afternoon.”

She smiled at him in the mirror. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I wore shoes I can run in, isn’t it?”

He chuckled and without another word, continued past the Martin home to the park entrance.

A few families dotted the grass, two boys playing football in one, a mother cooing over her infant in another, but otherwise, the park was deserted. Mithian set off around the edge of the lake in the direction of the Martin property, looping her camera around her neck to look like a tourist. She took the occasional shot and made a mental note to ask Percival if they could come back here for their next picnic. It really was a lovely vista, and it was a shame she couldn’t take the time now. The clouds made the lighting perfect for some truly gorgeous photos.

The grass was boggy in more than one spot. The first time she got her boot stuck in the mud, Mithian grimaced and yanked it out with a squelch. She cut a wider swathe around the lake, but too soon she had to angle back in again. It was the only way to get to the Martins, which meant tolerating the occasional mudbath.

When she heard the voices, she halted, quickly lifting her camera and turning it toward the horizon. There were two of them, a man and a woman, arguing in increasing intensity. He was louder, his words honed and bitter, while she seemed to remain quiet for long stretches of time, only speaking when he paused.

Without lowering her camera, Mithian edged closer. Though it wasn’t likely they were the Martins, their proximity to the property was too coincidental for Mithian not to check it out.

“—too far!” the woman hissed.

“ _I_ went too far? I did what I had to, to protect this family!”

Mithian’s heart began to thump. The disagreement could easily be between the Martins. Slowly, she began to twist toward them, still pretending to take pictures but instead searching for figures through the viewfinder. The bend in the lake made it difficult to see far, but through the trees, she caught a glimpse of white that didn’t look natural. 

_Gotcha._

“You got what you wanted in court, didn’t you?” 

No doubt about it. That had to be the mother, the one who’d recanted her story and made Percival’s job so difficult. Mithian focused on the white, taking the necessary steps forward until it became clear it was a coat. Hannah Martin’s coat, to be exact. She was a pale woman, with gaunt features, like life had hacked away at her bit by bit, heedless of the broken statuary it left behind. Mithian moved to the side to get a better angle on who she was addressing, wincing inwardly when her boot got stuck in the mud again.

“And whose fault is it that it got that far in the first place?”

She got her first good look at Jared Martin when he leaned down to get into his wife’s face. His were the generic good looks that let him blend in with the crowd, brown hair just starting to thin, a trim figure with only the slightest start of a paunch. The only aspect that jumped out at Mithian were his dark eyes, flashing as they were now with seething anger.

Her finger flew, taking picture after picture. Thank god digital cameras were mostly silent. She could watch unobserved as long as she stayed motionless behind the trees.

Even then, her stomach lurched in shock when he struck his wife.

She never stopped shooting.

Hannah took her time straightening, her cheek and jaw flaming where Jared had hit her. “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice so low, Mithian barely caught it. “I just want this over.”

_You and me both._

“Then you let me handle this, understand? Listen like anyone with half a brain would, and everyone wins.”

A fat rain droplet splattered against Mithian’s camera lens. The next hit her cheek, with more quickly wetting her hair. Hastily, she shoved her camera back into the case before rain got in and ruined the evidence. When she looked up again, Mr. Martin was hauling his wife back to their house, the brown brick disappearing in the rising mist.

She wouldn’t be getting any more pictures today, but with what she already had, she was certain they were unnecessary. She could give them to Percival, or better yet, send them in anonymously to the paper for them to print. Shaming Mr. Martin publicly would discredit anything he had to say and Percival could go back to work. He might even get the opportunity to look into the Martin case again, if new proof showed that it was a violent atmosphere.

With newfound hope, Mithian turned to head back in the direction she came from. The wind picked up with every step, forcing her to bend her head and shield her face from the driving rain, and the already sodden ground sucked at her feet, slowing her progress little by little. When the cold water formed a steady stream down the back of her neck and beneath her jumper, she curled her arms around her upper body in a bid to keep warm. 

It failed. The shivers started before she’d gone twenty feet. Worse, the clouds had darkened even further, and the rain blinded her. She had no idea where she was. The sylvan bends and curves in the lake that had appealed to her on her initial trek through the park now presented obstacles to overcome, a labyrinth to navigate rather than a vista to enjoy.

The heel of her boot sank into an unseen hole. Mithian pitched to the side, gasping in surprise until a bolt of pain shot up into her ankle when her foot didn’t move with her. Then it was pain that colored her cry, and she landed on the water-logged grass with a thump.

She ground her teeth to keep from screaming in frustration. This was ridiculous, getting caught out like a wayward child who didn’t have the good sense to come out of the rain. She should’ve kept better track of where she was headed. Too late to whine about it now, though, and she gritted her teeth together as she began to work to get her boot free from the muck.

It would all be worth it in the end. She had to focus on that and not the fresh throbbing of her trapped foot.

* * *

The rain started an hour from Maidstone, forcing Percival to slow down when all he wanted was to get home. He should’ve started earlier. Hell, he should never have left at all, a choice that had been driven home when Ewan had cornered him on the bench press last night.

_“What’re you doing?”_

_Percival ignored Ewan’s looming form to focus on his set. “Isn’t it obvious?”_

_Ewan startled him by grabbing the bar and racking it, then leaning his weight against it to keep Percival from taking it again. “Since when do you run away from problems?”_

_He wasn’t going to lie there with sweat dripping into his ears just to get lectured. Scooping up his towel, he sat up and wiped his face. “I didn’t run away. I got sent. Big difference.”_

_“Not from where I’m standing.”_

_“Your job isn’t on the line.”_

_“And the only place in this country you can work is there?” Ewan scoffed. “You run, you look guilty. You know that.”_

_He did, a realization that had become increasingly clear the farther from Maidstone he got. He’d felt so bad about his decision, he’d even ignored Mithian’s texts and calls, using spotty reception as an excuse._

_“What do you expect me to do?” he’d said._

_“What you always do. Fight back. Harder.”_

He’d left after breakfast, but the journey that should’ve taken him only five hours was now dragging into its sixth. Too many idiots on the road who couldn’t handle a rainstorm. Since it was Saturday, he couldn’t go into work, but he hoped Mithian would consider catching a train out and spending Sunday with him, his way of apologizing for being such a distant prick for the past week.

When a Skoda began riding its brakes in front of him, he decided to pass on waiting until he got home to ring. The sooner he talked to her, the better he would feel.

The phone rang four times before it connected. “P-p-percival?”

He could swear her teeth were chattering, and the sound of rain got ten times louder inside his car. “Are you out in this storm?” he asked, incredulous. “It’s freezing. Get a taxi.”

She laughed—well, it might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so ragged. “You have no idea how much I would kill for a taxi right now.”

“Where are you?”

“Mote Park.”

His foot slipped off the accelerator, and he had to take a moment to course correct. “What’re you doing there?”

“At the moment, trying to get my foot out of this bloody hole. I think I’ve twisted my ankle, and it hurts like a bugger.”

Alarm replaced his surprise. He couldn’t even appreciate how adorable it was that she started to swear when she was frustrated. “Call 999 if you’re hurt.”

“I don’t even know where I am for certain. I got all turned around in the rain.”

As long as she was talking to him, he could be sure she was all right. “You still haven’t said what you’re doing there in the first place.”

“I wanted to help.”

“How?”

She paused, her breathing heavy on the phone. He sincerely hoped that was because she was working so hard to free herself and not because she was succumbing to the elements. _No. Mithian’s stronger than that._

“Mithian?” he prompted.

“I brought my camera. I thought if I could catch Mr. Martin doing something, he’d back off and everything could go back to normal for you.”

On the one hand, he loved that she wanted to fight for him. On the other, getting involved was a bad idea, especially if it left her hurt in the process. “I never told you where they lived.”

“Like I couldn’t find that information out on my own.” She sounded exasperated with him. Good. Keeping her focused on him would distract her from the cold and wet. “Don’t you even want to know what I saw?”

“I’m more concerned about you,” he said. “How’s your foot coming? Can you take your shoe off? Maybe that’ll help.”

“I tried that already. It’s too wet for me to get the knot undone, and it won’t just slip off.”

“Then hang up and call 999.”

“What about—”

“Do it.” He hardened his tone, hoping it would work to chastise her into obeying rather than put her on the defensive. “You can call me back once you’ve rung for help.” Spotting a break in the traffic, he zipped around the Skoda and sped up. It was more important than ever to get home as swiftly as possible. “I’m less than an hour out.”

“You’re on your way home? Why? Did he recant?”

“No,” Percival said. “I just realized I had to come back and face it all down.”

“What about your job? I thought you said they’d suspend you if you didn’t go quietly.”

“I don’t want to work for an organization who’d be happy to employ someone who’s too afraid to stand up to bullies like Jared Martin. If I have to look for work someplace else, that’s what I’ll do. This country is full of kids who need someone to stand up for them.”

“And _that’s_ why I wanted to help,” Mithian said. “Because you, Percival Howard, are the best man I have ever known.”

In spite of how worried he was, he smiled. “Stop flattering me and get off the phone.”

“I’m calling you right back.”

“I’m counting on it.”

* * *

Her fingers were numb, and she was soaked through to the skin, but Mithian did her best to answer whenever Percival asked her something. The dispatcher had said someone would be arriving at the park as soon as possible to help her, but she’d been useless in trying to explain where she was other than the vague direction of toward the Martin home. Nobody had yet to arrive when Percival said he was at the park gate twenty-five minutes later, though he said there was a police car angled in the lot.

She didn’t comment on how fast he must’ve driven to make the time he had. She was just glad he was here.

“I know you’re cold,” he soothed. The rain had eased, the sky brightening a little as it tried to fight back the clouds. “I have great blankets. Very cozy. They’ll warm you right up.”

“Just blankets?”

“You want something else?”

She smiled at his teasing tone. “I know for a fact you generate plenty of body heat.”

He laughed. “You probably do. Hang on, I see the guy they sent out to help you.”

As his voice grew distant, she curled around the camera case. It helped both to keep her warm and convince her she hadn’t made this trip for nothing, because she was doing everything she could to protect the pictures she took.

“Mithian?” She sharpened again at at the sound of his voice. “Listen, I need you to do something for us, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Disconnect and then shout as loud as you can. I want to find out if we’re close. If I don’t hear anything, I’ll call you right back.”

She didn’t like the thought of losing that connection, but if that’s what they needed… “All right.” Fumbling with her phone, she took a deep breath so she could be as loud as possible. “I’m over here! Percival! This way!”

Leaves rustled overhead. A few seconds later, she heard, “Mithian! We’re on our way!”

Relief flooded through her as she shoved her phone into her pocket. She strained to listen for any more signs, but it took a minute before she caught the sloshing of their footprints. 

Percival was first, practically running the last few yards to get to her. He was as soaked as she was, but where she felt like a drowned rat, he looked like he belonged in a modeling shoot. She might’ve complained about it being unfair if she wasn’t so damn glad to see him, throwing her arms around his shoulders when he stooped to hug her.

They clung to each other in silence until the policeman appeared behind Percival. He knelt down to examine Mithian’s stuck foot. She winced when he attempted prying it free.

“I have to cut your laces,” he said.

“Whatever it takes.”

The instant the boot loosened, feeling rushed back into her foot, causing her to gasp. She pulled her leg free, leaving the policeman to pull the boot out now that it didn’t have her flesh filling it out, but it was Percival who peeled away her sock to look at her swollen ankle.

“Yep, that looks sprained,” he announced. Before she could protest, he swept her up into his arms and stood. “Better get you to emergency to get it checked.”

The policeman led the way back to the front of the park, giving them enough privacy for her to snuggle into Percival’s neck. “You still haven’t asked about what I saw,” she said.

The soft smile he gave her did more to warm her up than a thousand fires ever could. “That’s because you’re still more important.”

When he brushed a kiss across her wet temple, she sighed and closed her eyes. This was one of those instances where they’d have to agree to disagree, but for now, she’d let him be her crusader. Soon enough, she’d get to be his, too.


	9. Make Them Possible

_Chapter Nine: Make Them Possible_

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Mithian paused where she was trying to juggle slipping her messenger bag over her shoulder while keeping her weight off her bad ankle. She wasn’t expecting anyone, certainly not at six o’clock on a Friday. She’d specifically made sure to clear her schedule so she could concentrate on not having any work hanging over her for the weekend. That way, she could enjoy the two days she’d scheduled to spend with Percival in peace. 

It didn’t help that the intern hovered at her side, wearing a weird smile. “Who is it?” she asked. “I’m done for the day.”

The smile widened. “He said his name was Arthur. That you would want to see him.”

Turning back to her desk, Mithian rolled her eyes out of the intern’s sight. Not that she really had any desire to see Arthur right now when she was in such a rush, but at least she understood why the intern had gone all googly. Arthur had that effect on too many women.

“Tell him he can wait.”

“Well, that’s not very nice.” She wasn’t surprised Arthur answered her, though when she turned back to face him, the fact that he wore jeans and a jumper instead of a business suit was a mild shock. Last she heard, Uther was riding him hard on some new deal. He should be knee-deep in contracts instead of here to spoil her plans.

“You could’ve called,” she said.

“And risk you being stubborn and ducking out on me? Not on your life.” In a swift gesture, he slipped the bag right off her shoulder and onto his, holding out his other arm for her to take. “A little birdie told me you’ve been taking taxis ever since your little adventure, so I’m here to save you a few quid and give you a personal chaperone for the night.”

As much as she wanted to be annoyed with him, she couldn’t, not when he was being so gallant. Truth be told, she _had_ been spending a small fortune to avoid the Underground. The incident at Mote Park had chipped something in her ankle, putting her on crutches for a while before she demanded something else. Now, she had a clumsy boot to hobble around on, and while walking and stairs were infinitely easier, long distances and the thought of fighting people on the train were nightmarish. The stupid boot wasn’t even cute, though at least she was only supposed to wear it for another week.

Looping her arm through his, she leaned on Arthur as they made their way out of the office. “Thank you.” She meant it, though she was curious who had spilled the beans. Percival, most likely. Which made it even more difficult to be annoyed. “Though you didn’t have to go out of your way, you know. Don’t you have your own job to do?”

“I’ve got a party to go to later, so I knocked off early. What about you? You and Percival have plans?”

“I’m taking an early train so we can spend the weekend together.” 

In the six weeks since her impromptu trip, they’d found every excuse to be together. She’d taken that Monday off so she could meet with his supervisors and share the pictures she’d taken, then Percival had come back with her to London once it was clear Mr. Martin would be backing off. That week had been astounding. They’d gone out with their friends, spent time visiting Percival’s old haunts, and discovered that they could have hours in each other’s company without getting bored. She’d even introduced him to her father, who had taken to Percival better than she could’ve ever imagined. It’d been hard to say goodbye when he had to go return to work, which was why every minute they could share was valuable. To both of them, she was pretty sure, even though neither one of them had said so out loud.

Arthur had managed to procure a parking spot almost right in front of her office, the Pendragon magical touch coming to light once again. She let him help her into the passenger seat with the silent vow that if he tried carrying her up the stairs to her flat, she would have to put her foot down.

They made small talk as he navigated London’s busy traffic, but when he hit the Embankment and turned in the opposite direction of her flat, she frowned.

“What’re you doing? There’s no shortcut this way.”

He smiled, that tight little pleased one he got when he was feeling all too smug about something. “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously.

No number of questions, demands, or threats could get another word from him. It wasn’t until they pulled into a carpark around the corner of one of Merlin’s favorite pubs that she realized what he was doing.

“I don’t have time for hanging out with everyone tonight,” she complained.

“You never have time for us anymore,” Arthur countered.

“Well, maybe someone should’ve told me about it ahead of time so that I could’ve planned for it.” 

“And give you time to come up with some excuse to avoid seeing us again?” He grinned at her as he cut the engine. “Just how stupid do you think we are?”

As tempting as it was to tell him exactly what she thought of him, Mithian held her tongue all the way to the pub door. When Arthur went to open it, she braced her hand against it to stop him. “At least tell me what we’re celebrating. You did say it was a party, right?”

“It is. And we’re late as it is.” He knocked her fingers away and yanked open the door. “Don’t blame me for the surprise. Blame your boyfriend.”

And there said boyfriend stood, filling up the doorway with a smile so wide, she forgot for a moment that she was annoyed. The only time it faltered was when his gaze flickered to her boot, but she was used to that by now. He blamed himself for her injury by running away to Wales in the first place, no matter how often she told him otherwise. It didn’t matter that everything had worked out in the end, either. In Percival’s eyes, her hurt ankle should never have happened at all.

“What’re you doing here?” she blurted before he said anything. “I thought I was coming to you this weekend.”

“That was tomorrow. That didn’t mean I couldn’t come up here tonight.” His gaze slid to Arthur. “Thanks, mate.”

Arthur grinned. “What’re friends for?” He pushed past Percival to wave greetings to the rest of the gang, leaving her and Percival in private.

Mithian pressed closer, sighing happily when Percival caught her hips and tugged her the rest of the way. Their lips met in a brief kiss, and for a split second, his grip tightened. This was all it took to light the fires deep within them. Sometimes, not even a touch. Unlike other relationships she’d been in, the attraction they shared hadn’t blazed at the start only to ebb as time passed. No, theirs deepened each minute they spent together. When they parted, she always wanted him back, craving more until she felt like she was going to bust by the time she saw him again.

His eyes had darkened already when she shifted back, and she smoothed her hand over his chest, absorbing his heat through his thin shirt. “So, really,” she said. “What’s this all about? Arthur said it was a party.”

“It is, in a way.” Entwining their fingers, he guided her to the nearest table where an empty chair waited for her next to Merlin. He kept their hands joined as he sat next to her. “Hannah Martin left her husband.”

Her brows shot up. Percival had made no mention of the Martins since returning to work. She’d assumed he was concentrating on his other cases. His mood had never plummeted to the same depths he’d experienced during the Martin debacle, and no more mention had been made in the paper.

“Did she come to you?” she asked.

“To the department,” he said. “They’re now safely tucked away where that son of a bitch can’t touch either one of them.”

She leapt across the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck. “That’s wonderful. That’s so wonderful.”

He hugged her back, then tugged her onto his lap when she made to return to her chair. “She told Freya that if a stranger cared enough about getting the truth out there about her husband, she was a coward not to do the same.”

Mithian would never have called her a coward. “I’m just glad they don’t have to live in fear any more.”

His broad hand stroked the small of her back, up and down the same few inches of her spine until goosebumps erupted along her arms. “It won’t be easy, but it’s a step. An important one.” He paused, his gaze suddenly solemn and intent. “Just like you moving down to Kent to live with me would be.”

Her first thought was that he was making a casual comparison, but one look into his eyes and she knew he wasn’t. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her lungs tight. Around them, conversations hushed. “You’re joking,” she said, but her voice was feeble, lacking any belief whatsoever.

“I love you,” Percival said softly. “I think I’ve probably loved you since you played keepaway with your camera that first time you came to see me. I’m tired of having to say goodbye to you so often when all I want is for you to be around all the time. I want to have to worry about being late for work because it’s too hard to get out of a bed with you in it. I want you to have all the green and all the horizons you could ever dream for. The first step to making that possible is you moving in with me, don’t you think?”

In the dark of night, in the middle of the week, when she knew she wouldn’t see Percival for a couple more days and it was far too late to bother him with a text or a photo, she’d wondered about their future. She’d asked herself how long she would be able to keep this up, how long _he_ would be content with the status quo. Once or twice, she’d fantasized about more, certainly. But she’d never seriously entertained the notion, because, well, they hadn’t exactly been nearly so open about their feelings, for starters.

And then there was… “My job is here, though.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” The declaration came from Arthur, and she turned away from Percival in time to see Arthur take a manila folder from Merlin and slide it across the table toward her.

She frowned. “What’s this?”

“A job offer with Pendragon Industries. We’re opening a satellite office in Tunbridge Wells, and we’ll need some good graphics people for marketing. Now, I know it’s a bit of a commute from Maidstone—”

“Half an hour,” Percival interjected.

“—but you’d be able to do some original photography for it if you want. Plus, you could probably negotiate working remotely a few days a week.” Arthur grinned. “I hear you have an in with the boss.”

She started shaking her head before he’d finished. “I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?” Arthur said.

“Because you’re only offering because we’re friends.”

“No, I’m offering it because you’re good. I’ve seen your work. The prints Percival showed me were brilliant.” He wagged a finger at her. “Someone’s been hiding her light under a bushel.”

She swiveled to stare at Percival, who shrugged nonchalantly. “So I like to brag about how talented you are. Sue me.”

“Besides,” Arthur went on, “what’s the point of having powerful friends if you can’t take advantage of it once in a while? By the way, you can’t really say no. Father loved the idea so much, he already talked to yours about it.”

Her cheeks reddened. “What happened to warning me off getting serious?”

Percival’s attention snapped to Arthur. “You did what?”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting me in trouble over that.” As he spoke, he ticked the items off. “First. That was weeks ago. You two had been out on _one_ date. Second. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, Perc. I told Mithian you were a crusader, which you will be the first to admit you are.” 

Percival grimaced, then relaxed. “Fine.”

“Third. What I didn’t know at the time was that on top of keeping her photography secret from all of us, Mithian had her own crusader cape she liked to don, though unfortunately, it doesn’t extend all the way to her ankles.”

“Hey!” she protested, though Percival’s snickering undermined her annoyance.

“Which leads me to four,” Arthur said. “And the fact that I’ve decided you two pretty much deserve each other. Capes and all.”

Everyone was laughing by the time Arthur was done, including Mithian. “All right, point taken. You think we’re a match made in heaven.”

“And what about you?” Percival prompted. “You know how I feel, but I can say it again if you need me to.”

At the look of hopeful adoration on his face, she softened. “No, you don’t have to do that. I get it. Though I reserve the right to ask you to repeat that little speech when we don’t have an audience.”

“Duly noted. And?”

It felt perfectly right to say the words. “I love you, too. So, yes, I’d love to move in with you.”

The resounding cheers behind her were drowned out by the roar inside her head when Percival cupped her face and kissed her. His lips moved over hers in the sort of hungry familiarity she found herself dreaming about when he wasn’t around, then realized she wouldn’t have to sit in wait for him any longer. He would be there at her side, in her arms, wherever she needed him to be. Any time he wanted her, she could be there without long travel plans or other responsibilities holding them back.

As they separated, Gwaine’s voice rose above the others. “Pay up, people. If I’m going to buy a round, I want to make sure it’s with all the money you lot lost to me.”

“Are you making bets on me again?” Percival asked.

“Nope.” Gwaine winked at Mithian. “On her.”

The wager was so Gwaine, she had to laugh. “And you didn’t think I’d get cold feet and turn him down?”

“Absolutely not. I had you saying yes as soon as Arthur offered you the job.” He hooked a thumb at the others. “This lot were convinced you’d need more time, but given who was doing the asking, I knew that was a load of rubbish. Next to me, he’s the best man I know, and you’re too smart to let him get away.”

They both laughed, then, especially when Gwaine went around collecting the money he’d won. 

“One of these days, you have to tell me why it is Gwaine thinks you walk on water,” Mithian said.

He brushed a loose tendril out of her face, his fingertips lingering along her skin like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her. “Lucky for me, we’ve got all the time in the world now to swap those kind of stories.”

Resting her forehead against his, Mithian closed her eyes and simply breathed him in. “Lucky for both of us.”


End file.
